Innocence Lost
by Lady Evelia
Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU. Sexual Abuse.
1. Prologue

Hey Everyone. This is officially my first story on fanfiction and in the Big Time Rush universe. I want to thank everyone beforehand for giving this story a chance. I want to make one thing clear. This story isn't a love story. It's a story I wrote to spread awareness of the damage of sexual abuse. I beg that all of you put your opinions aside and read this story, as it will hopefully open your eyes. I want to make clear that I do not condone sexual abuse and that I find Katie and Kendall pairings quite repulsive. Yet, I felt that I had to write this. So without further annoyance, I present to you **Innocence Lost.**

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deal with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**If you have the chance please review.  
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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_"All things truly wicked start from innocence" – Ernest Hemingway_

I remember the first time it happened.

The first time he laid hands on me.

The first time he crept into my room in middle of the night and joined me in bed.

I have nightmares about those times I've had with him.

The thought of the first time he undressed me, laid me naked on my pink unicorn sheets, and deflowered me, plague my mind each and every day.

He had always been so gentle and warm, treating me as if I were his delicate little flower.

Yet, his kisses were like fire, scalding the flesh of my lips every time he pressed his against mine. His touches were laced with sin, his eyes glazed with lust, and his heart beating with desire. At first, pleasure seemed to rush through my veins every time his hands caressed the little lumps of my bosom. My cheeks used to turn a rosy red hue, as he whispered huskily how much he loved me on top of him.

Yet, I was a naïve child in those days, as I was ignorant to my sinful acts.

I hadn't realized the wrong in what I was doing, the complete disaster I was causing myself.

I had honestly believed that what we were doing was what brothers and sisters did, as he assured me every time he played his sick little games with me.

I had loved him and adored him like any other sister would of their cool older brother.

Yet, he loved me more than any normal brother should of their little sister.

His love was almost obsessive to the point of complete insanity.

I was too blind to see it then, too blind to see the immoral look in his eyes as he gazed upon me.

Yet, it is all too clear now, as clear as a cloudless summer's day.

He was and still is a monster, a savage beast with a blackened heart and poisoned ambitions of tormenting me.

It wasn't until the fifth grade when I learned of the evil we had committed.

I remember whispering that horrid word (I shall not say) to myself in class, as the teacher explained, with a look of disgust, what it meant.

My actions were laden in taboo and sprinkled with the burning sands of sin.

I was going to hell, to burn eternally in the abysmal pits of fire.

Yet, my realization didn't hinder his obsessive desire, it didn't change a thing.

In fact, it only made things worse.

He changed and that killed me more than my understanding of his evils.

His assurances became threats with the façade of protection.

His soft whispers and loving touch had morphed into dark demands and controlling strokes.

My nights were spent lying in bed, the very bed he ravenously stole my virtue on, dried tears staining my cheeks, praying to God to take my life.

Death was my only way out.

It was the only path towards salvation and inner peace.

He couldn't hurt me anymore if I were six feet under his feet.

He could only rot internally with the memories of him violating me and stripping me of my childhood innocence.

He would die a disciple of the devil.

I despised him.

Every cell of my heart loathed his presence and the very pronunciation of his name.

Yet, I ironically couldn't help but love him.

Maybe, it was because I was forced to love him.

After all, he was my flesh and blood.

We would forever be bound by blood and by name.

This is my story of how my innocence was lost, in the hands of a monster, masked as my brother.


	2. Chapter I

Hello everyone. I cannot tell you how excited I am about this story. At first, I was afraid of posting it, afraid of the nasty comments I would get about it. I want to thank everyone that read a reviewed my story. You guys are overly awesome. I want to apologize for the shortness of the previous chapter. The chapters in this story will be somewhat short. I don't want to bore you guys with details. So without further ado, I present the first chapter to my story.

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**(P.S. It would be nice if you guys reviewed. ) **

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><p><strong>Chapter I<strong>

_"There is always a moment in childhood where the door opens and lets the future in." – Deepak Chopra_

It always seems like life's darkest and most sinister deeds are done when us mortals least expect it. Whenever there would be a time of peace and prosperity, fate seemed to sprinkle the dust of despair among us. Wickedness, with its ugly head, had crept stealthily into my life one fateful night. That night I shall never forget, as it was the eve of my seventh birthday. To a child, a birthday was that special day in which there could only be happiness and glee. For me, it was the same. Yet, now the mere thought of a birthday curdles the contents of my stomach, a sensation of nausea and disgust ravaging within me. He stole that from me. I cannot celebrate another day of aging without him and his evils marring the fibers of my mind. That bastard irrevocably stole the pleasure associated with birthdays from me. Year after year, I am reminded of that night. The ugly cycle will never end. It shall go on until the day I die.

I recall not being able to sleep that night, excitement whirling within me. After all, birthdays were something that only came once a year.

I lay in my bed, curling in the heavy fabric of my unicorn quilt. It had seemed like I was there forever, doing nothing but staring at blackness.

I was humming the all too familiar birthday tune to myself, a smile plastered on my round cherubic face.

To me, tomorrow would be one of the best days I've ever lived. In the almost seven years of my life, I had never had a birthday party. With the help of my older brother Kendall, I was able to convince my overprotective mother in throwing me my very first birthday soiree.

I remember inviting all the little girls and boys in my class. I would be getting lots of presents and was even promised, by my mother, that Barbie bicycle I begged for all year. My mother, the great baker she was, would make me a coconut flavored cake, iced perfectly in pink frosting.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the slow creaking of the door as it opened. It was until I heard quiet footsteps flopping towards my bed, that I noticed Kendall standing in front of me.

He was clad in just shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His blond mop of hair was insanely disheveled, pieces of gold sticking erect from atop his head. I could barely make out the contours of his handsome face, as it was gloomily dark.

"What are you still doing up?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"I can't sleep."

"Oh," was his reply. He sounded peculiarly sad, a little disappointment lingering in his boyish voice. I didn't even give a second thought back then, as I was too young to pick up on such details.

"Sleep with me Kenny," I said, patting the empty space next to me.

I didn't find anything weird back then about sleeping with my brother. As small children we used to sleep in the same bed, even though we had our own rooms.

Our mother used to scold us for doing so, yet I never gave her demands another inkling of thought.

Today, I blame myself for making such a terrible mistake.

But how would I've known?

Such things didn't exist in my childhood mind.

He climbed into bed with me, lying dangerously close to me.

As I emphasized before, I didn't give it a second thought.

After all, my bed was considerably small since I was a tiny girl for my age. An almost six foot, thirteen year old boy would definitely have trouble fitting into a small twin-sized bed.

Our chests were practically touching.

I could feel his hot breath burning the smooth flesh of my pink cheeks.

His breath smelt of stale toothpaste.

Even though I couldn't see, I could feel his jade green eyes staring deeply into my chocolate brown ones.

"Katie Kat," Kendall whispered softly.

I smiled happily at the nickname I've had since birth. For as long as I could remember, Kendall has been calling me that. I thought it was cute and affectionate and I did have a liking towards cats.

Kendall had always loved me.

He's told me countless times how much he cared for me and how much I meant to him. Calling me Katie Kat was one of his ways of showing his love towards me. Today, I now know that that wretched name was his version of a pet name for me, his sick and twisted way of labeling me as his own. That was the kind of name only fit for lovers, which we never were and never will be.

"Hmmm?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"What?" I asked.

I was pretty certain that he was going to ask me to fetch a glass of water for him. He'd been having a sore throat the past couple of days prior. So when he asked me to play a game with him, I was genuinely confused. It was nearly midnight and our mother was asleep. We couldn't be very loud since we'd wake her up. Usually Kendall didn't like playing games with me. He complained the he was too old to play dollhouse with me. He used to play with me all the time. But, he was thirteen and had his hockey friends whom he did everything with.

"What kind of game?"

"A secret game. You have to promise not to say anything," Kendall warned his voice uncharacteristically stern.

I shook my head feverishly, with a smile forming on my lips.

Kendall pulled the quilt off of himself. He gently took a hold of my hand and placed it on a warm mushy thing. I instinctively pulled my hand back, my brow furrowing in confusion. The thing had felt weird in my hands, reminding me of the silly putty I always played with. I hadn't had a clue of what it was.

"Katie Kat you have to touch it. It's part of the game," Kendall whined.

"It feels weird."

"You just have to get used to it. Please touch it for me," he instructed impatiently. He was mumbling and his breath was very shallow. I hadn't had an idea of why he was acting so strange. I thought it was his cold acting up on him.

He took my hand again, this time tightening his hold on me. He led my hand towards the thing and I closed my eyes shut as I touched it. It seemed alive as I held it in my hands, growing harder by the second.

"Go up and down."

I listened and slid my hand in an up and down motion. I could tell that I was making Kendall feel good by the way he kept whispering for more. This kind of made me smile. I loved making my big brother happy. I was kind of getting the hang of this game.

I was completely caught off guard when Kendall pushed my head down towards the thing. I scrunched my nose as the thing smelt of stale sweat. It was tickling the opening of my mouth. I kept my mouth closed as it tried to wiggle its way through. I shook my head in protest causing Kendall to yank at my hair. As I opened my mouth to yelp in pain, the thing slithered through.

I nearly choked on it, gasping desperately for air. I tried to spit it out, yet Kendall's hand was clasped on my head. My eyes began to water, tears rushing down my cheeks. The thing was burning the back of my throat and I couldn't get loose. Kendall was too strong.

The thing slid out of my mouth and I thought it was over.

I needed fresh air.

That thing tasted and smelt nasty.

Yet, seconds later it slid back in. It continued this motion for what seemed like forever. I wanted it to end. I hated this game. Kendall was moaning my name and telling me how much he loved this game.

My mouth began to taste of bitter spit, except it was stickier and warm and tasted overly salty. I coughed and swallowed most of the stuff. It felt as if I was swallowing fire. The thing finally pulled out, leaving a disgusting taste in my mouth. I never forgot that taste.

Kendall immediately got up, pulling up his shorts. I laid there in fear. I didn't want to play with that thing anymore. He hovered over me and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. He wiped away the tears that began to well up in the corner of my eyes. I sniffled and bit my lip, willing myself not to burst into tears. Kendall hated it when I cried and often chastised me, calling me names such as crybaby.

"Happy birthday Katie Kat," he said, before walking out of my room and into the darkness.


	3. Chapter II

Hey everyone. Thanks to everyone who read this story and reviewed. I know that this is a very controversial topic. But I feel as if someone has to tell the story. I feel that the Big Time Rush universe has too many 'bubblegum' stories. I like to switch things up. I hope that you guys can see past the disturbing nature of the story and actually get the message. Unfortunately, sexual abuse is an ugly reality in our society. Here are some statistics about sexual abuse:

**There are more than 39 million survivors of sexual abuse in America alone.**

**More than 60% of pregnant teens have been sexually abused.**

**1 in 4 girls will be sexually abused before she turns 18. **

**20% of child abuse victims are under the age of 8. **

**More than 90% of abusers are people children know, love, and trust. **

**Most victims never tell…**

Without further ado, here is the third installment to **Innocence Lost. **

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**(P.S. It would be nice if you guys reviewed. ) **

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><p><strong>Chapter II <strong>

"_The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse" – Edmund Burke_

I had never told my mother of that night, mainly because Kendall had convinced me to say nothing. I was sincerely confused that night. I never experienced something as dramatic as that. Kendall and I had never played a game like that. Yet, I brushed it off and went on with my childhood life. Kendall had acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. By his nonchalance I believed that it was nothing to be overly concerned about.

I was unfazed when it happened again, as Kendall assured me that it was normal. All his friends' sisters did that for their brothers. My naivety compelled me to believe him and I carried on playing with that thing. There were times when Kendall "returned the favor" as he called it. He would gently tickle my private part with his long slender fingers. Sometimes he would even put his mouth to it and lick it. I remember feeling enjoyment ravage within me, as he kept playing with my private part.

At first, I was a little hesitant. I clearly remembered my mother telling me that no one was allowed to play with (what she called) my no-no spot. Yet, Kendall had a brilliant explanation to this. He said that _other_ people weren't allowed to touch there. However, since he was my brother he was perfectly allowed to. As usual, my stupidity forced me to accept his proclamation as true.

Eventually, Kendall declared the game boring and decided to add some new rules. One rule was that we were play naked. I had never seen my brother naked and I bet he's never seen me without clothes. It was a bit weird to undress on front of him. Every time I undressed, his eyes dilated with hunger. It was particularly one night when the game went a little too far.

It was past midnight and my mother was asleep in her room. Kendall had already crept into my room and was in the process of getting undressed. As for me, I was lying naked in bed, waiting patiently for him to get ready. I watched as he pulled his boxers down, revealing that thing that I spent a year playing with. It looked like a pink snake, except with golden hair growing around it. I looked at it with awe. It was monstrous in size. At that moment, it looked relatively lifeless. He then slid something onto it, as if he were covering the thing. It was clear and looked like a glove. I hadn't had a clue what it was.

"Are you ready for the game?" Kendall asked, crawling into the bed.

I nodded obediently, a smile etched on my pale face. He proceeded to lay me down, placing one of my pillows under my head for comfort. He climbed on top of me, careful not to crush me under his enormous weight. He then did something that felt weird. He pressed his lips against mine. I'd kissed my brother before but only on his cheeks. I'd never had anyone kiss me on my lips before. His lips were wet with saliva and tasted like toothpaste and potato chips. He upped the ante by sliding his tongue into my mouth. His tongue felt slimy and warm. It whirled around in my mouth, as if it were exploring it. I didn't know what to do. So, I did nothing. As moments passed, the thing began to harden as it always did. It felt strange and I writhed with unpleasantness. He eventually broke the kiss. His eyes were dark with lust as they bore into mine.

"Katie Kat, listen to me carefully," Kendall began. He paused and took a hold of the thing.

I stared at him with patience. I remember him smelling of that sweet spray he always seemed to put on. It was called Axe. But I had no idea what an Axe was.

"I'm going to put the thing in you," he replied.

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

Put the thing in me?

What did that even mean?

Confusion suddenly became panic. I was afraid that if he put it in me, it would get lost. Then Kendall would be furious and not want to play the game with me anymore.

"Why Kenny?" I asked.

"It's a new rule," he explained.

I didn't want to have that thing in me. If it got lost then it would be my fault. I wasn't ready to give up playing these games with Kendall. He paid more attention to me now and seemed to play less and less with his friends. I felt important and I didn't want to lose that.

"I don't wanna."

"Katie Kat please," Kendall pleaded. His mouth was practically watering with desire.

I couldn't say no to Kendall. He would certainly stop playing with me. So I sighed and slowly nodded my head.

He proceeded to push the thing into my no-no spot.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

The pain was somewhat unbearable.

I began to whimper somewhat noisily, my back arching off the cushion of my bed. To shush me, Kendall clasped a hand over my mouth. I shut my eyes and clenched my jaw. I tried my best to stay calm. Yet, the pain didn't seem to dissipate. It felt as if I were being stretched open. I moaned and groaned, yet nothing made it stop. It slowly pushed its way through. It felt as if my flesh was ripping to pieces and I could do nothing but take the pain.

I swallowed a big wad of spit, a lump forming in my throat. It was completely agonizing and I wanted desperately to cry. Kendall kept assuring me that everything was going to be fine and I was going to like it.

"Kenny please stop!" I begged.

Yet, my voice was muffled under his hand. He didn't stop. He kept going and the pain only got worse. It felt as if I were going to pass out from the pain, however, the thing finally pushed all the way through.

I let out a sigh of relief.

The pain seemed to subside.

Kendall began to rock on top of me, the thing sliding in and out, as it always did when it was in my mouth. Kendall was grunting and whispering my name.

Was this making him feel good?

How could that be?

The thing was hurting me.

I felt as if it weren't fair.

He was having fun at my expense.

I wanted to have fun too.

Kendall finally pulled the thing out of me. He immediately placed a small kiss on my forehead.

"See? It wasn't that bad."

I gave him an uneasy smile.

It felt horrible!

Yet, I didn't want to complain since Kendall would just decide to stop playing the game. Kendall didn't like when I complained and always threatened to stop playing with me forever.

He crawled off of the bed and pulled the glove off of his thing. He wrapped it in a tissue and threw it into my trash can. He then began to hurriedly dress himself.

"Get dressed," he instructed. As always, I listened and pulled my pants up my scrawny legs. I yanked my princess t-shirt over my head.

He turned to leave, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible. But before he left, he turned around.

"If you ever tell anyone, I won't ever talk to you again," He whispered, his voice dripping with malice.

I nodded my head in fear as he crept into the darkness. As I laid down and buried my face into my pillow, I noticed something terrifying staining my sheets. It was blood. I was terribly confused. Then a bizarre thought popped into my head.

I must've hurt his thing!

That poor thing!

Hot tears welled up in my eyes and trickled down my pink cheeks.

Kendall would certainly never play with my again.


	4. Chapter III

Hey fellow Fanfiction aficionados. Sorry for the delay in my story. School has been really stressful with PSATs, AP and Honors classes, and lots of unnecessary homework. Also, I haven't been getting a lot of feedback, which is kind of troubling. I don't know whether to continue on with it. I know that my story deals with really horrible topics, but someone has to tell the story. So without further ado, I present Chapter III to **Innocence Lost.**

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**(P.S. It would be nice if you guys reviewed. ) **

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><p><strong>Chapter III <strong>

"**It is a man, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evils" – Buddha**

By the time I was nine, Kendall's games got worse and worse. He was no longer satisfied with what he considered simple things, such as him putting his thing into me. The games became more bizarre as we went along and I was Kendall's favorite player. There were times when I begged Kendall to stop the game. Yet, he was charmingly good at convincing me to do things I didn't want to do. There were times when Kendall held me in his arms in the middle of the night and comforted me after our game. He would sing me a lullaby and tell me everything would be okay. All my fears and inhibitions seemed to wash away every time. He was my big brother and he was going to protect me. Nothing or no one would be able to harm me with him by my side. Little did I know, the person solely causing my pain and suffering was right at my side.

I remember the day when the game turned toxic. My mother was working the day shift at the diner, where she worked as a waitress. As always, she left Kendall in charge of the house and most importantly, me. As soon as he heard the car zoom out of the driveway, Kendall turned to me and explained the new rules to the game. The new rule was that I was to be tied up to my bed and had to convince him to let me free. He said I would win a prize if I won my freedom. As always, I was a little nervous of the new rule. Yet, I complied with his requests. Kendall demanded that I undress before he tied me up.

"Why Kenny?" I remember asking, my eyes dilating with wonder.

His explanation was that my role was to be a wild animal.

"Animals clearly don't wear clothes," he chuckled, swinging a shiny pair of handcuffs through his fingers.

That made complete sense to me. I'd never seen animals wear clothes at the zoo or on television. I slid out of my clothes and followed Kendall into my room. I climbed into bed and said nothing as he clasped the shiny handcuff around my skinny arm. He dragged a dining room chair into the room and took a seat, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest.

"Now beg for your freedom," Kendall demanded, a smirk playing on his thin pink lips.

For an hour I begged and pleaded for Kendall to let me go. I offered to clean his room for a month, to never complain when he was watching television, to leave him and his friends alone when they were playing video games. Nothing seemed to work. He just sat there, staring at me with his bright green eyes, and shaking his head indifferently. Kendall wasn't convinced and it was aggravating. My stomach began to groan in hunger and the handcuff was digging into my flesh.

"I'm thirsty," I whined, my mouth dry and lips chapped.

Kendall wordlessly exited the room and reentered a few seconds later. He had a big jug of water in his hands.

"Beg for it," Kendall demanded.

I whimpered, dejectedly dropping my head to my chest. I hated the new rule. I didn't want to be an animal anymore. I wanted to be Katie. I liked the game better the way it was. But complaining wasn't going to stop the game. It would only make things worse. Kendall wouldn't even look at me if I began to whine about the new rule. He always told me that since he was the eldest, that I couldn't make any rules.

Kendall sauntered to the side of my bed and told me to open my mouth wide. I quivered my lips in protest. Fat droplets of tears began to form on the corners of my eyes. There was no use in questioning his motives, as he would just leave me there even longer. I hesitantly opened my mouth as wide as humanly possible, willing myself not to cry. I liked it better when he was on top of me and whispering how beautiful I was to him. I liked it better when he simply only wanted me to lick and suck on his thing.

With a sinister smirk, Kendall poured the whole jug of water onto me. I let out an ear-piercing squeal, gasping desperately for air. The water was ice cold and felt like daggers as it touched my bare skin. I burst into a frantic fit of tears. As the seconds went by, my screaming had become even more hysterical than before. My body writhed pathetically as I tried to break free. I had had enough of the stupid game. I wanted nothing more than to get free and watch cartoons as Kendall held me close to his chest and ran his fingers through my hair.

"Shut up bitch!" Kendall snapped. He threatened to throw more water on me and promised that the water would be colder than before. I heard somewhere that bitch meant a female dog. I hadn't a clue why Kendall would call me a female dog. Maybe it was a part of the game. After all, my role was to be an animal and dogs were clearly animals.

Hours went by and my desperate cries for freedom had become utterly useless. I was starving, my stomach grumbling and my mouth watering as Kendall ate a sandwich in front of me. I was tired, dark bags forming under my eyes and my body begging for a comfortable position to sleep in. I was most importantly scared out of my wits. I hadn't had a clue if I would be let go anytime soon. It was up to Kendall and he seemed dissatisfied with my yelps for freedom. He soon grew bored and left me there to watch television. He purposefully turn the TV as loud as it could go, drowning out my incessant crying.

Nightfall had come and I was still tied up. The room was getting eerily dark and Kendall refused to turn the light on. He explained that animals didn't need light, only humans did. I was drifting into a shallow sleep when Kendall strolled back into my room. He shouted for me to wake up. He had his video camera in his hands, the same one that he got for Christmas that year.

"Do you want you freedom?" he demanded.

I shook my head weakly, unable to keep my eyelids from drooping.

"I want you to touch your private," Kendall instructed, turning on his camera.

With hesitation and fear, I slid my hand to my private.

"Do what I do to it."

Kendall usually played with it, pushing his large fingers inside of it. He always complimented me on the smoothness of my private, saying how much he hated hairy ones.

I stuck a finger inside and slid it halfway out, repeating this action for what seemed like forever. When I finally pulled my finger out, it was covered in a sticky colorless substance.

"Taste it," Kendall demanded.

I slowly put the finger in my mouth, my taste buds rejecting the horrid taste of it.

Kendall finally let me free.

I was drifting to a shallow sleep when Kendall finally let me free.

I thanked him and kissed him repeatedly on the lips. I even told him that he was the best brother anyone could ever want and that I was lucky that I could call him my brother.

I began to slide my underwear up my twig-like legs when Kendall stopped me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Mommy's coming soon."

"She called. She's working overtime."

"Isn't the game over?"

Kendall laughed darkly at this. "Katie Kat, the game has just begun."


	5. Chapter IV

Hey guys! Lady Evelia here, bringing you another fix of my amazing story. This chapter was quite easy to write. Yet, I took forever in making it as perfect as I can. (I need a Beta. I seriously do). Also, school has been crazy since it's the end of the first quarter. I had a lot of assignments to make up. I am also happy to announce that I am working on future stories, which will be published after this one is complete. I am going to put the summaries up on my page as soon as I write them. FYI, they are not going to be any less difficult to read than this. They deal with male prostitution, pedophilia, drug abuse, transgenderism, and racism, just to name a few topics. I am going to stop my incessant blabber and present you the fifth installment of **Innocence Lost**.

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**(P.S. It would be nice if you guys reviewed. ) **

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><p><strong>Chapter IV<strong>

**"Jealousy is nothing more than the fear of abandonment" – Anonymous**

I was barely into my tenth year when Kendall brought home his first girlfriend. During that time, Kendall had been ignoring me for a reason I had no clue of. He seemed as if he didn't want to play the game anymore. Anytime I asked to play, Kendall made an outrageous excuse or simply just shooed me away. There were times when I cried and begged Kendall to play. I promised him that I wouldn't complain if he made a new rule and I didn't like it. I promised I would be a good girl and listen to all his explanations. Yet, Kendall seemed indifferent and uninterested. I was scared to death of the fact that Kendall didn't want to play with me anymore. More importantly I was terrified of the thought that Kendall may have stopped loving me. I hated it when he ignored me and pretended as if I didn't exist. To me, the game was a way for us to bond and spend time together. I loved spending time with him and wanted nothing more for him to feel the same. I assured him that I didn't mind if he tied me up or whipped me lightly with a stick.

I remember the first time I saw his girlfriend. I was staring at the television as my mother worked in the kitchen to fix dinner. It was almost seven o'clock and Kendall was supposed to be home. He never stood out this late, except on Friday nights when he slept over at his friend's house. Without warning, the door swung open and Kendall strolled in, a girl trailing behind him. They were both laughing hysterically as if they had just finished hearing the funniest joke. I had never seen this girl in my ten years of life and didn't even know that Kendall talked to other girls other than me. He never seemed interested in girls his own age. He didn't talk of girls when he was around me. He wasn't like his friends, who couldn't stop talking about the girls in their school. One of his friends named James always talked of all the girls who liked his pretty boy looks.

This girl was beautiful, like one of those princesses in those storybooks that I read as a child. She was taller than I, almost statuesque. She had long pretty blonde hair that went well past her shoulders. She was shapely too, with an itty-bitty waist and a curvaceous bosom. Her eyes were the shade of coffee and twinkled brightly in light. Her face had a radiant glow to it, like the sun had kissed her on her cheeks. She was wearing a simple cotton dress that feel to her knees. It would have looked rather plain on me or any other girl, yet it fit her quite well.

Kendall barely acknowledged my presence and carelessly dropped his knapsack to the ground.

"Hello," the girl said to me with an enthusiastic smile. She gave me a fervent wave.

"Hi," I replied hesitantly, giving her a weak wave in return.

Kendall was looking at this girl in a weird way, the same twinkle in his eye that I had always loved.

"Jo this is my sister Katie," Kendall said, pointing in my direction.

Her name was Jo. It seemed pretty plain to me. I thought her name would be something more pretty sounding like Amelia or Samantha.

"Are you Kenny's friend?" I asked Jo, my voice laden with curiosity.

Jo let out a small shy giggle. She gave Kendall a look and he discreetly nodded his head.

"I'm kind of his girlfriend."

I couldn't believe it. It was preposterous in my childhood mind.

Girlfriend?

Kendall had a girlfriend?

Since when?

How?

Why?

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach and I began to nervously chew on my bottom lip. Kendall never told me of this girl. To be honest, he never told me anything back then. I could feel this ugly feeling welling up within me. It was ravaging within my body. Every inch of me was being overtaken by the horrid feeling. I had never felt this way before. It was a foreign feeling to me and completely unexpected.

I instinctively clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes. My fourth grade teacher had a name for this feeling. She called it jealousy when she read a story about a green monster. The green monster was a beast that ate the meat of your insides when you wanted something that another already had. I guess I could say I wanted Kendall. I didn't want that girl taking my brother from me. I wanted him to love me and only me. I wanted him to be mine and only mine. I could share food, books, and even toys. Yet, Kendall was my most prized possession. I could not share him with anyone, not even with a girl as beautiful as Jo. It was as if he was my heart, for I needed him to live. Without him, I was nothing. I did not exist. I didn't want anything or anyone getting in the way of Kendall and me.

My mother walked into the room, wiping her hands on her _world's greatest mom _apron. Her face lit up when she spotted Jo standing next to her son.

"Hi sweetheart!" she squealed, giving the teenage girl a small embrace. She flashed Jo her famous motherly smile.

"Hi Mrs. Knight," Jo replied, her signature smile plastered on her porcelain face.

My mother even knew of this girl before I did. It was disappointing and heartbreaking.

I felt so left out.

Why wouldn't Kendall tell me about her?

Why was I the last to know?

My mother invited Jo to stay for dinner. She had made her famous spaghetti and meatballs. I was hungry that evening as I refused to eat the disgusting school lunch. Jo accepted the invitation and sat next to Kendall, which had always been my spot. Suddenly I didn't feel hungry anymore. Jealousy will do that to an appetite. I excused myself from dinner and dashed into my room, not looking back at the puzzled look on my mother's face.

"Is she okay?" I remember hearing Jo ask.

I wanted to go back and look her straight in the eye.

"_You're the reason I'm not okay. Bitch." _

That is what I wanted to tell her.

I jumped onto my bed and began to silently sob. I saw the way Kendall looked at that girl. He really liked her. He couldn't stop staring at her with a love struck look in his green eyes. That could only have meant one thing. He had been done with me. I was being replaced with that stupid girl Jo. The fun that I was having with him had come to a tragic end.

That night, I laid in bed unable to sleep. I held my prized teddy bear named Linus to my chest. Kendall had given me that teddy bear a couple years back for Christmas. It was a brown furry little thing that had a pink bow tied nicely around its neck. I had named Linus after that Charlie Brown character that always carried around the blanket. Kendall and I used to watch that show together as children.

My mind was consumed with that girl Jo. I had no clue why Kendall liked her over me. Maybe it was because she was so pretty and I was so bland looking. I was skinny like a stick and had no shape to me. Maybe it was because she was tall and had gorgeous golden hair just like Kendall. Maybe it was because her eyes sparkled in the sun and mines were dull and black like coal. I was the complete opposite of her. I was short in stature and had long mousy brown hair. I couldn't compete with a girl like Jo. It was as if you were comparing a Barbie doll to an ugly troll.

It was well past midnight and I still wasn't able to sleep. I didn't have a clue if I would be able to sleep anytime soon. I was staring at my ceiling when my door squeaked open. Even though it was dark, I could see Kendall's lanky frame standing at the opening of the door. He slowly locked the door and tiptoed towards my bed. He took a seat at the edge.

"Why are you still up?"

"Why aren't you with Jo?" I retorted, burying my face into Linus's furry stomach.

Kendall was silent for a brief moment before he began his response. "Are you jealous of Jo?" he asked.

I said nothing, ashamedly hiding my face behind Linus. My silence gave Kendall his answer. He chuckled and placed a large hand on my head. He began to run his fingers through my hair. I loved when he did that. It was soothing and comforting. His slender fingers were cold and sent shivers down my spine.

"Katie Kat she isn't going to replace you," Kendall assured.

I didn't want to ask my next question. I was scared of the answer I might receive. Yet, I had to know. I wouldn't be able to live any longer without knowing. I finally showed my face and looked Kendall right into his green eyes. I began to stutter at first, too embarrassed to form words. I was quiet for a moment before I spit out my question.

"Do you play the game with her?" I asked quickly.

Kendall was silent, a look of gravity on his face. I could tell that he had bad news by the way he began to chew on his bottom lip. My face fell and I could feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes.

How could he do this to me?

"Katie Kat. I have to play with her," Kendall finally replied.

"Why?"

"If I don't she'll find out our secret. She'll tell on us. I don't love her. I love you," Kendall explained.

I did not know what to say to that. Yet, I believed him. He wanted to keep our game safe. He was only protecting me. He didn't love Jo. He was faking it. Kendall was very good at putting on an act when he needed to. He was able to betray other people. But, he would never betray me. He promised me that from day one.

In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that he did betray me.

But I quickly brushed that thought away.

This was different.

He was helping me and he had no choice.

He had to do it in order to keep our secret.

I instantly forgave him and pushed my doubt to the back of my mind.

"You are my number one girl Katie Kat. Don't you ever forget that," Kendall replied.

I never forgot that. After all, there was no way Kendall would ever let me forget. I was the only girl he would ever love. I always was and I always will be.


	6. Chapter V

Hey guys! Sorry for the brief delay in my writing. My new job is taking huge chunks out of my time, which was generally spent writing my stories. I also wanted put it out there that I am looking for a writing buddy, someone who would possibly want to co-write some stories with me. I feel that the saying "Two heads is better than one" also applies to writing. If you're interested in co-writing with me and are a decently go writer, PM me ASAP. Without further ado, I present to you the fifth chapter of **Innocence Lost.**

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

Chapter V

"The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain."

Karl Marx

Throughout my childhood, I never really had many friends. Yet, there was no defect in my personality. I was a friendly little girl who loved to play dolls with the other little girls. I was never plagued with the flaws of children my age. There wasn't a speck of meanness in me. There wasn't a tat of reticence in me. Yet, I never could make friends. It wasn't that I wasn't able to or didn't want to. It was because I was never really allowed to. Kendall never really enjoyed the idea of me having friends. In fact, he seemed to hate the idea. He would viciously scold me whenever I became distracted with people from the outside world. I wasn't allowed to talk about my day at school at the dinner table even if my mother asked. His green eyes would glower with disgust as he watched me play silly games with other kids. He especially hated it when I talked to the little boys of my grade. There were times when I was invited to go to birthday parties and sleepovers. Yet, out of fear I always refused to go. I was deathly afraid of being shunned by my big brother.

I was an isolated little girl, with few connections to the outside world. Kendall liked it that way. I never really knew why. I never really pondered upon that question throughout my life, until now. He didn't like sharing me with other people. How hypocritical of him. He was very much allowed to go out with his friends and have fun doing whatever teenage boys do. The only fun that he allowed me to have was playing that wretched game with him in the dead of night. He was the unforgiving puppeteer and I was his naïve little puppet.

It was a dismally cold winter afternoon. That winter was a wicked one, with record breaking snowfall and temperatures below zero. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner while I was in my room working on my homework. Yet, I wasn't alone. I was doing homework with a friend from school. His name was Tommy Deluca. He was new in town, having just moved from some big city on the east coast. He was a quiet little boy, who rarely ever spoke in class. I was kind of his only friend as the other kids found poor Tommy weird and obscure. He was toweringly tall for his age, with long shaggy black hair that covered his dark eyes. His complexion reminded me of marble, ivory white and lacking any natural color. He had a façade of aloofness, but I was the only one privileged enough to see his true character. He was an amicable little boy with a great sense of humor.

Kendall wasn't home. It was hockey season which meant that he was rarely ever home. His evenings were spent on the ice as the team's star player. I was undoubtedly his biggest fan, as I went to every single game and cheered him on as loud as I could. He wasn't supposed to be home for hours, it was one of the last practices before the championship game. So I felt safe in inviting Tommy over to do homework together. I must have been unlucky that particular day as Kendall came home early from practice.

I remember tittering quietly with Tommy as we shared jokes and funny little stories with each other. I loved and savored the attention I was getting from another human being other than my big brother. In my earlier years, I would have felt guilty for defying my brother by bringing home a boy. Yet, I was too much deprived of human contact that I didn't feel an inkling of remorse. I didn't even notice the slamming of a car door or the beep of the alarm. It was until I heard the door slam and my mother's voice that I became suspicious.

"You're home early!" I heard my mother say through the thick of the walls.

My heart sunk to the abysmal pit of my stomach. I completely froze, not able to feel the life in tips of my fingers. My heart began to beat against the cage of my chest, a tingling sensation ravaging my body. Kendall wasn't supposed to be home for another couple of hours. By the time he arrived, there was supposed to be no evidence of anyone ever being there. As Tommy was in the middle of a sentence, I frantically shut my notebook. In my head I truly thought that I could hide Tommy in my closet and sneak him out. Yet, that idea was over the minute Kendall opened his mouth.

"Where's Katie?" he asked.

"Upstairs with a friend," my mother naively replied.

There was a brief silence.

Kendall was furious.

I had never been so sure of anything in my life.

I could just imagine the fire burning in the green of his eyes.

"A friend?" Kendall asked dubiously.

"Yeah. She invited some boy over to do homework," she said excitedly.

At that time, my mother believed me to be an antisocial recluse. That poor woman lived forever in a lie. Kendall was good that way. He had my mother wrapped around his evil fingers. He even suggested a few times that I make friends. He didn't mean it. He would say things like that in order to cover his tracks. He always did things for personal gain. She was desperate for me to make friends, which was why she allowed for me to bring home a boy despite her maternal instincts.

There was another silence. This time it was long and terrifying. Yet, Kendall seemed to go off on a tangent, asking my mother what she was making for dinner. His voice was soft and free of anger. His voice had lost the depth that it usually had when he was angry.

"Chicken pot pie," my mother replied, in her usually upbeat voice.

"I'm going upstairs to finish my homework," Kendall said.

His feet made boisterous clamps as he trotted up the carpeted steps. It seemed as if his footsteps were following the rhythm of my heart.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

He was beyond angry, I could very well tell by his footsteps. They seemed to get heavy with anger. He strolled into my bedroom, an expressionless look on his face. Kendall had a knack for masking his emotions behind a veil of dishonesty. He was a strategist, knowing very well when to hide his weaknesses.

"Hey Katie Kat," Kendall replied through clenched teeth. That bastard even flashed me a bright smile. It was definitely a forced smile. Yet, that smile hid evils unknown to the world.

I said nothing, my body trembling viciously. I didn't know what to say. I was utterly speechless. I couldn't even lie and telling the truth would be unbearable.

Kendall glanced at Tommy, pretending to have noticed his presence for the first time.

"Who are you?" he asked. His voice was calm and smooth.

"I'm Katie's friend Tommy."

"I'm Katie's older brother, how long have you been coming here?"

"This is my fifth time here."

Kendall gave me a discreet look of fury. He ran his fingers through his golden hair apprehensively, trying his best not to scream.

"Well you two kids have fun," Kendall replied, a smile etched on his flawless face. He gave me one last look and left without another word.

I found this peculiarly weird. In my mind, I thought Kendall was going to tear poor little Tommy to pieces. I felt a sense of relief. I thought that Kendall was going to let me get away with it this one time. His must have realized how dumb he was acting in trying to enforce his rules.

Have you ever heard of a lion sparing their prey?

I haven't.

I was stupid in believing such a thing. Kendall never let things go unpunished until he got his revenge. He could pretend that he was okay for days and then strike without a moment's notice. He was good at that. He liked to get his revenge when I least expected. It was thrilling for him to see the terrified look on my face as he did his worst. However, this time Kendall struck as soon as he had the chance. He must have been beyond furious as he didn't have the willpower to wait. That night my mother did her usual graveyard shift at the diner where she worked. Kendall was able to do his damage because my mother was a hardworking woman.

The irony.

It was well into the night when Kendall physically attacked me for the first time in my life. I was drifting into a shallow sleep when Kendall flung my door open and stormed in. His clamorous footsteps echoed off the walls as he stomped towards me. Without warning, he yanked the quilt off of my body and grabbed me by the neck in a deathly grip. He was a strong boy, well past six feet and pushing two hundred pounds. I was no match for him, as I was barely five feet and a mere ninety pounds. I could not breathe and began to gasp desperately for air. I began to writhe my body in protest and flail my bare feet erratically in midair. He threw me to the wooden ground and I let out a small yelp of pain as I crashed onto the earth.

"You disgusting whore!" Kendall snapped loudly, his voice piercing my eardrums.

"I'm sorry!" I managed to cry out, cradling my arm, which had hit the ground awkwardly as I fell. All I could see was a hazy black blur through the tsunami of tears that were streaming down my face.

Kendall pounced on top of me, pinning me down with his enormous weight. My cries subsided as I began to sputter from a lack of air.

"I trusted you Katie Kat," Kendall hissed, his voice sounding as if he were about to cry.

"You stupid lying bitch."

He slapped me squarely across my face, sending a devilish sting throughout my body.

I noticed something shiny in his hand. It was too dark to fully make it out.

"I'm going to make you mine Katie Kat. Forever mine," He whispered darkly, his voice husky and low.

He lifted up my shirt and began to caress a piece of my white skin on my stomach.

"Oh, if you'd only obey me, I wouldn't have to invoke any pain upon you."

Kendall took the shiny thing and stroked it against my skin. It was sharp, making the hair upon my skin stand up. Never in a million years would I have thought that Kendall would do what he did next. With unsteady hands, he pierced my skin with the sharp object (I assumed it was a knife) and slowly ran it a couple of centimeters down my stomach. In response, I grabbed tufts of the carpet and arched my back. I whimpered in agonizing pain as he ran the knife under my skin. Blood curdling screams escaped from my lungs and my throat felt as if it was on fire. He ignored my ear piercing sobs and continued with cutting my skin. I shut my eyes with all my might and could see nothing but blackness.

Is this what death had felt like?

I could feel the warm crimson liquid ooze out of the wound. It trickled slowly in small beads down my side and onto the floor. The faint smell of metal wafted through the air. It was an unbearable five minutes before Kendall finally pulled out the knife, and wiped it clean with his shirt. He took off his shirt and wiped the blood from my wound.

"All done Katie Kat."

Kendall placed a tender kiss on my lips, his lips tasting of metal.

"I love you so much baby sister."

He placed a large hand on my cheeks, his thumb slowly stroking my cheek. He slowly and ever so gently undressed me.

"No," I whispered weakly, wriggling in protest.

I didn't want to play anymore.

Yet, he didn't listen to by protests.

He never did.

Within five minutes the damage was done and he left me there to suffer through the cold and dark night.

He was uncharacteristically rough, ripping me apart inside and out.

If only death would come and take me for a prisoner.


	7. Chapter VI

Happy New Year readers! A new year means more stories to tell! I've been getting a few reviews asking if this story was over. Well I have good news folks, it's not over! There is going to be at least ten more chapters. I am also working on my new story, which as of now is going to be a Kogan romance. So without further ado, I present to you the sixth chapter of **Innocence Lost. **

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me. **

**(P.S. It would be nice if you guys reviewed. ) **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VI<strong>

**"The truth is rarely pure and never simple" – Oscar Wilde**

It was a small crooked K that he carved into the flesh of my stomach that night. It was ugly and somewhat noticeable, as it left a visible yellow scar. I still have that jagged scar to this day. I can never look at it without being reminded of the horrors Kendall had done to me. I was nearing my prepubescent days when I had finally realized how soiled I had become. I was not the naïve and innocent little girl that I once was. I wasn't blind to the evils of the world anymore. I had seen enough of humanity to know how imperfect and fucked up it really was. I had shed myself of ignorance and was now clothed in the tattered rags of truth. I was now fully aware of Kendall's evils and was truly hurt that he had lied to me all these years. He was supposed to protect me from the evils of man. Yet, he was the very soul that had caused my pain and suffering.

You learn a lot in your young elementary school days, more than you'd ever imagine. Fifth grade was when I had learned of rape and that ugly word incest. I had finally realized (like a fool) that I was a silent victim of both. Kendall's actions towards me were not as normal as he claimed. I should have known that brothers and sisters didn't sleep in the same bed naked. I should have known that it wasn't okay for me to be tied up and beaten like a dog. I should have known there was nothing wrong with me questioning Kendall's actions.

The game that we've played since the eve of my seventh birthday was not a game at all. I was his pawn, his little toy that he could use and abuse whenever he liked. For six long years I was manipulated and taken advantage of. He was not a loving brother in my eyes anymore. I no longer admired him or worshipped the ground he walked on. He was a living and breathing monster whom I was forced to call my brother.

From the moment I found out, I wanted to confess my sins to my mother. I wanted to tell her of the devil that she called her son. I hated the idea that everyone thought of Kendall as this virtuous young man who can never hurt anyone or anything. Every girl was swoon over his good looks and charming attitude. Every guy would have died to be like him, the popular hockey superstar.

If only they knew the Kendall that I knew.

Would they have loved him then?

His façade of normalcy was a lie.

I wanted to expose him for who he really was.

Yet, I was terrified.

I have known him all my life and I know that he capable of anything, even murder. That boy fears nothing but being known for his true colors. If he could get away with murder, he would do it without a second thought.

He has told me many times that he would kill me if I ever opened my mouth.

He even had the audacity to tell me how he would take my life.

He would come in the dead of night and slit my throat. He would purposefully use a dull blade so that I wouldn't die instantaneously. I would die a slow and painful death as he watched with a malicious grin on his face. He would watch the life in my eyes slowly but surely wash away.

I had no choice but to continue to submit to him and obey his every word. He had taken everything from me. He had taken my virginity, my innocence, my dignity, my delicateness, my sense of being, and most importantly, he robbed me of my childhood. I was isolated from the world, forced to cut ties with the few friends that I had salvaged through the years. I was practically a slave, forced to obey my master's every wish and command. I was broken physically. I had the ugly scars and bruises to show for it. I was broken mentally. I had no real sense of self worth. For most of my life, I believed myself to be repulsive and pathetic and soiled.

I remember one day –when I was almost twelve years old—looking in the mirror and not being able recognize the thing that was looking back at me. The girl standing before me was not who I once was, a bubbly and happy young girl with an innocent aura. I was a stranger, even to my own self. I had lost the youthful glow that I once had. My skin was now an ashen hue that looked as if I had already died. I had lost so much weight even though I was thin in nature. My body looked as if it belonged to a skeleton. My ribs stuck out and my stomach made a concave shape that was displeasing to the eye. I could barely hold myself up as my legs with like twigs ready to snap in two. My hair was stringy and limp and was touching the skin of my lower back. My cheeks had lost their pinkness and black bags slept under my eyes.

That bastard made me this way. He liked the way I looked. He would purr huskily into my ear how sexy I looked even though I looked like a victim of genocide. He forced me to lose weight and maintain a weight of ninety pounds even though I was much taller than I once was. He forbade me to eat anything that he didn't approve of. I was starving most of the time and even grew sick from my lack of proper nutrition. There were times when I snuck a slice of pizza or small crumbs of cake into my room from the outside world. I would scarf down these foods in my bathroom with the door locked, careful not to make any noise. It was agonizing to watch my brother eat anything that he pleased at the dinner table while I stared hungrily at my untouched food. There were times when I was close to eating, even though I would get beaten severely for disobeying his rules.

He liked my hair long and forced me to grow it out. My mother would nag over the outlandish length of my hair. I would tell her that I loved it long and refused to cut it. In reality, I wanted nothing more than to cut it. If I was able to, I would have taken a razor and shaved it all off.

Making me suffer was all a part of his master plan. I could say that Kendall loved me most when I was a naïve little girl. Back then, I was innocent and knew nothing of the evils of the world. I did not have a voice, for I did not need one. If he was able to, he would make me remain a young girl forever. He wanted me to maintain my youthful appearance and hated the fact that I was growing into a woman. It made him sick, absolutely repulsed, by the fact that I was growing breasts and that my hips were becoming more curvaceous. There were times when he forced me to wrap a large ace bandage across my chest in order to create the illusion that I was still young and very much flat chested.

My twelfth birthday was like my most of my birthdays. Since I was seven, Kendall would come into my room and fuck me until I couldn't feel my legs. However, that particular year he didn't wake me up with his dick touching my face. That year, my birthday fell on a Saturday and I spent most of it in bed. I felt sick, which was the feeling that I had come accustomed to. I lay in bed staring at the white ceiling and rehashing the fucked up memories of my childhood. As I said before, my birthday was a day of solemnity. I wanted to cry my eyes out. Yet, I could not cry that year as I was too weak to cry. My body ached from all the bruising and rough sex. My heart ached from the times that I looked in the mirror and despised what I saw. I could not cry any longer. There were no tears left in me. Crying would not solve anything. It only made things worse.

My mother had made me breakfast in bed. A stack of strawberry pancakes with whipped cream and creamy syrup, two eggs made sunny side up, and a bowl of fresh fruit was lying beside me in bed. I didn't touch any of it. I was not hungry. I had been used to eating nothing and surviving. After all, Kendall would force me to stick a finger down my throat and throw it all up. I didn't see the point in making my life any worse than it already was. So I chose to starve instead.

My mother was her usual chipper self, trying to coerce me out of bed. I remember yelling at her to leave me alone, cursing at her for the first time in my life. She had this shocked and melancholic look on her face. She looked as if she was about to cry. Yet, I didn't care. I wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone. She would do nothing but nag and nag the same way Kendall would. I was tired of it all.

It was almost dinner time when Kendall came into my room. My mother was already gone for work. I silently prayed to God that Kendall wouldn't fuck me as hard as he usually did. Usually, I wouldn't be able to stand because my legs would hurt so much. There would be a mosaic of bruises covering my thighs and a number of bite marks covering my chest and stomach.

He had a box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a little bow on top, in his hands. I hadn't seen him all day, which I found peculiar. I expected him to come before dawn into my room and fuck me like the whore that I was. I even had pain killers slipped under my pillow for preparation.

"Happy birthday Katie Kat," Kendall cooed, a smile plastered on his face.

The usual darkness in his eyes was virtually nonexistent.

He sauntered over to my bed and took a seat on the edge.

"What's with the glum face?" he asked, knowing very well why I was upset.

I shrugged my shoulders, too depressed to even speak. I was eying the box in his hand, half expecting it to be a sex toy that he wanted to use on me. My first dildo was a gift from him. Like the good girl I was, I was supposed to use it every night. I haven't touched it once.

He wordlessly handed me the box, a hopeful grin on his face. I hesitantly looked down on it, scrunching my nose in disgust. I didn't want anything from him except for the things he stole from me.

But this is real life.

You can't just wish for something that you'll never get back.

"Open it" he urged.

I slowly unwrapped the present with uneasy fingers. It was a black velvet jewelry box from the Zales at the local mall. I opened the box to find a silver necklace looking back at me. It was a locket with _Katie_ engraved in the center. It gleamed brightly in the late afternoon light. With curiosity, I pried open the locket to find an old photograph of Kendall and I. I was about six at the time and Kendall was twelve. We were both smiling with looks of childhood bliss on our faces.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, lying through my teeth.

"Not as beautiful as you Katie Kat. I knew you'd like it."

I slid it onto my neck as Kendall watched my every move. The necklace nestled awkwardly between my visible collarbone.

"Thank you," I muttered, not looking Kendall in the eye.

"Don't ever take it off," he warned, raising a neatly manicured brow.

"I won't," I assured.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against his and with fake passion began to kiss him. With shaky fingers, I gently grabbed his arm and placed it on my crotch.

He broke the kiss, his green eyes boring into my brown ones.

"Katie you've never been this horny before," Kendall replied observantly. A lustful grin began to form on his lips.

"I love you," I lied.

Kendall wordlessly took my shirt off, revealing my sallow torso.

I didn't want to have sex with him. I really didn't. In my mind, I believed that he would take it easy on me if I initiated sex, if I at least wanted it more than he did.

"I love you too Katie Kat," a sly look on Kendall's face.

I had never been so wrong in my life.


	8. Chapter VII

Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU

Rating: M

Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall

Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst.

Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me.

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><p>Chapter VII<p>

Kendall's last year in high school was the best year of his life. That was the year when he was named the captain of the Varsity Ice Hockey team at his school. I remember the day that he told me the news, with flickers of joy in his emerald green eyes, flickers that I had never seen before. I remember congratulating him and placing a tender kiss on his pink lips. That was also the year that Kendall had become the target of every major college across the country. He had garnered many athletic scholarship offers from the top universities in the country, such as Notre Dame and USC. I remember praying every night that Kendall would choose to move as far away as possible so that I'd only have to see him twice a year. If he was far away my life could finally begin. I could have friends again and finally eat whatever I wanted. I wouldn't have to worry about being fucked while I was half asleep. The myriad of scars that had covered my body could finally heal.

In Kendall's head, I was his biggest fan. I went to all of his games, whether his team was at home or visiting. I would clap incessantly and holler as loud as I could when he scored an impossible goal with mere seconds left on the clock. I would always wear his old hockey jersey from his freshman year. It was big on me and fit me like a dress. Yet, Kendall loved to see me in it, especially when we fucked. I was always the first to congratulate him on a victory, with a warm sisterly hug and a joyful grin.

It was all an act. I hated hockey and I hated sitting there and pretending to be completely a hundred percent okay when I was dying inside. I didn't want to be there and even though Kendall never demanded that I attend every game, he pretty much expected it. I never missed one his games. Kendall would surely beat the disobedience out of me and I didn't want to risk another broken bone or another bruise or another sadistic rape. I always crossed my fingers that his team would win. Most people saw that as me being a supportive younger sister. If only they knew. Kendall seemed to be gentler when he won. It was as if he were a different person almost. His kisses were tender and loving. He seemed to take it easy on me during sex. Whenever he lost, I would have this stoic look on my face. It was my way of masking my emotions from the world. In reality, I wanted to scream on the top of my lungs: "Don't do this me! He's going to kill me! I'm going to die! Don't do this to me!"

Kendall was ferocious when he lost and I was his scapegoat, the very person he could take all his anger and frustration out on. When he lost, the sex was agonizing and so sadistic that I barely made it out alive. He once branded me with a scalding hot fireplace stick and left a nasty burn on that back of my thigh. Because of him, I know what the burning of flesh smells like. I would've died from that smell alone. He usually got tired after a while and left me alone, naked, bloodied, and bruised. I would stagger weakly into the bathroom and collapse into a pathetic heap in the bathtub. I would sit there for what seemed like forever while the cold water hit my skin.

There were scouts at one particular game, in which Kendall's team won a breathtaking 5 to 0. Kendall's friends urged him to stay and meet the scouts but Kendall refused. He had other things to do, things that he and I only knew of. He eyed me hungrily as his friends all surrounded him, congratulating him for another wonderful win. Kendall and I slipped through the back door of the rink and walked to Lou's Pizzeria, which was a couple of blocks from the ice rink. After a winning game was the only time that Kendall allowed me to eat whatever I wanted. I always order the same thing, three slices of pepperoni pizza, a large chocolate malt shake, and a bottle of Pepsi. Lou, the cheery old man who owned the shop, was fat with a pleasantly round stomach, a thick black mustache that covered his lips, and a head almost barren of hair. He knew of Kendall's reputation of being the greatest hockey players of the decade since his grandson played on the same team as him. He came up to our table as I began to devour my pizza and with a loud obnoxious chuckle repeated the same joke that he always said when we ate there.

"You eat as if you haven't eaten in days!"

Kendall laughed at Lou's overly cliché joke. He always did. He kicked my leg under the table indicating that I better laugh. A small giggle escaped my lips and I casted my eyes to the ground ashamedly. Kendall and Lou made small talk, with Lou sucking Kendall's dick like everyone else did. He showered him with compliments and even said that our meal was on him.

After a short silence, Lou finally waddled away and Kendall rolled his eyes with annoyance.

"What a fucking loser, just like his fag of a grandson," Kendall whispered to me.

I shrugged my shoulders, my mouth currently occupied with chewing my food. Kendall watched me eat, a dreamy expression etched on his flawless face. He watched with an eerie sense of complete fascination as if I was the most interesting person in the world to watch. He would smile with this creepy grin as I unattractively ripped apart my dinner as if he enjoyed every second of it. It was as if he liked seeing me so animalistic in nature. He savored the fact that I was like his little dog, dependent on his approval and acknowledgement. I was not human anymore and that made it so much easier for Kendall to do whatever the fuck he wanted with me.

After dinner, we walked in complete silence a short walk to our house. We were going to fuck all night until our mother came home. We were going to fuck in his room, my room, Mom's room, the kitchen, the shower, and anywhere else possible. I was even wearing his favorite pink underwear that was frilly and looked as if it belonged to a seven year old. That particular day we ended up not fucking as we usually did because my mother was home. Kendall nearly flipped when he saw my mother's car in the driveway. She usually worked Friday nights.

"What the fuck is that bitch doing here?" Kendall hissed, as we walked up our icy driveway.

We walked into our home and there she was sitting at the table with an old man clad in a gray suit. He looked like a well to do geezer, with a gold ring on his left pinky and a gold Rolex watch on his right wrist. He was pink, probably from years of tanning on his yacht in the Mediterranean or the Caribbean or wherever rich people vacationed. He was not yet bald, his thinning white hair combed over. She was laughing softly and taking periodical swigs of her coffee. It took her a minute to notice us standing at the doorway with puzzled looks on our faces. "This is him!" my mother exclaimed, pointing excitedly at Kendall. She jumped up from her seat and grabbed his hockey bag from his hands.

"Who is this Mom?" Kendall asked, rolling his eyes.

As if on cue, the man stood up from his seat and extended his hand to Kendall, a big jolly grin plastered on his leathery face.

"I'm Dick Palmer, president of the athletic department at The University of Texas," he said with a thick southern accent.

"I'm Kendall Knight," Kendall replied in a reluctant manner.

Dick let out a chuckle.

"Oh! I know who you are Mister Knight."

"Sit down sweetheart," Mom said, motioning for her son to sit.

Kendall hesitantly took a seat while Dick sat down across from him. Kendall gave me a look which obviously meant for me to sit next to him. I obeyed his silent command and listened quietly as they talked. Dick was offering Kendall a full athletic scholarship to Texas, room and board included. It was as if Dick was picking up on Kendall's indifference as he began to paint a beautiful picture of the university, with beautiful girls, a breathtaking campus, and a prestigious faculty. He also mentioned that Texas had many alumni playing in the NHL.

I silently prayed that he would take the fucking offer and leave. It would mean the world to me once he was gone. I suddenly felt guilty in being so selfish, especially because he was my brother. I hated everything about him except the fact that he was my brother. Always was and always will be. I couldn't imagine a life without him even though I had replayed the fantasy in my head over and over and over again.

As Dick was talking about the great food on campus, Kendall rudely cut him off. "This all sounds so wonderful," Kendall replied with a little sarcasm. Dick was about to speak again, but Kendall was far from finished.

"Hockey is just a dumb hobby that I have. I don't want to pursue it." Kendall said with a fake apologetic grin.

"After high school I'm done with hockey. I'm sorry Dick for the rejection but let's face it, half the stuff you said is bullshit. I bet all of your so called NHL stars play for the New York Rangers," Kendall finished with another cynical smirk.

I could not believe my ears, neither could my mother nor Dick Palmer. Kendall's whole life was hockey. He's been playing long before I was even alive. I remember every game he's ever played. I remember my mother driving him to every practice. For three years straight, his birthday parties have been at the hockey rink with his closest buddies. I could not even begin to think of what he would do without hockey. It took up most of his time. Whenever he wasn't busy with me, he was playing hockey.

"Kendall what are you going to do then?" Dick asked, raising a white eyebrow curiously.

"I'm going to the community college twenty minutes away," Kendall said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it weren't that big of a deal.

"You should think it over sweetie," Mom suggested.

Kendall eyed her with contempt.

"I never asked for your approval," Kendall snapped.

Taken aback, Mom said nothing and broke eye contact with him.

For some reason, Kendall was beginning to hate everyone that wasn't me.

I could feel the concoction of pizza and soda bubbling furiously in my stomach. I desperately had the feeling of wanting to vomit. A tingling sensation jolted through my body and I could feel the Earth spinning around me. Kendall wasn't leaving after all. He was planning on staying home so that he'd never have to leave me. Didn't he realize that I wouldn't miss him if decided to leave home? I suddenly jumped from my seat.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I quickly replied.

I ran down the long hallway, not waiting for acknowledgement. I dashed into the bathroom, slammed to door behind me, and dropped to my knees in front of the porcelain toilet. Closing my eyes tightly, I let out a small cough expecting the contents of my stomach to rush out my throat. To my disappointment, only droplets of saliva escaped my mouth. I slammed my fist against the toilet, letting out a cry of defeat. Why was it now that my body decided to behave? I was so used to my body's pain and its desperate cries for help. I always hated myself for not being able to care for it. After all, my body was supposed to be my temple. Yet, I fucked it up with the sex and starvation. If only I had the strength to finally end everything and finally expose Kendall for the sick bastard he was.

It spread like wildfire through my small town that Kendall, the hockey superstar destined for greatness, was quitting hockey. Everyone could not believe the newest piece of gossip. All the girls and guys at Kendall's high school were convinced that he, the captain of their celebrated hockey team, was going to one day play for the Minnesota Wild. The fact that Kendall was going to the local community college was mind boggling and kind of puzzling. Even the kids at my middle school were desperate for answers to the biggest shock in our town since forever. Everyone was mourning Kendall's decision, as if he were some assassinated king. It sickened me dearly. I had known how life was unfair, but this was extreme! How could such an evil and callous person be treated like some kind of hero?

Kendall was full of surprises that year. Before the huge senior prom, he finally broke it off with his distant girlfriend Jo, after two long years of unhappiness and outright misery. When they were together, he rarely ever brought her home. It was as if he had forgotten about her at times, only to be reminded of her existence when she invited him over to her house. He hated her while, like every other girl in town, she adored his very existence. He could not stand her very presence, as he's told me many times. He hated kissing her and holding her and laughing at her stupid stories. He hated being seen with her and pretending to get excited whenever she touched him with her nimble fingers. He finally dumped her because, according to him, the sex was awful, agonizing even. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. He would silently gag whenever he watched her undress. Her breasts were too curvaceous for his liking and never caused an erection for him. He was sickened at the sight of the carpet of blonde curly hair that covered her vagina. Her hips jutted out way too much and her shoulders were way too broad. Her hair, as beautifully blonde as it was, was too light in color and too short in length. He thought that she was hideously fat because she had a little jiggle in her thighs and buttocks.

He wanted me and nothing more, is what he said the day he broke up with her. To him, I was perfect, an angelic goddess from above. I was all he ever needed and wanted. I was his Sun and his Moon and his entire galaxy.

The night of his senior prom, instead of sporting a classy suit like his buddies and dancing the night away with girls, he spent the night in bed with me. His friends James, Carlos, and Logan practically begged their leader to join them assuring him that he'd take the virginity of some slutty girl at the dance. In their dimwitted male minds, they believed that Kendall was mourning his breakup with Jo. After all, Kendall told everyone that he found out, by a confidential source, that Jo was messing around with the entire football team. Like pitiful fools, everyone believed him and shunned the poor blonde girl. She was labeled a whore, a witch even. No one talked to her. No one could even look at her without a disgusted look on their face. She was taunted and teased for the rest of the year and it had gotten so bad that she stopped coming to school. She had moved away and people gossiped that she ran away to become a whore or a porn star. The stories got nastier and crueler. Her Facebook was being trashed by hateful comments even though she was far far away. After a while, she shut it down and fell off the face of the planet. In actuality, she had decided to graduate early and leave town to stay with her father in North Carolina. I had felt terrible at the hatred Jo had faced, the complete disregard for her feelings and dignity by her classmates. She didn't deserve it. No one deserved that. It was another one of Kendall's games. He could lie straight through his teeth and not care about the consequences that the other person would face. He didn't give a fuck. He cared about people's feelings. It wasn't because he didn't want to. I believe, he couldn't. He was proud of what he had done. It showed how powerful he was. Everyone hated her because of him. He had the whole world wrapped around his finger.

Kendall was the adulterous one. He was cheating on Jo, with me, his own flesh and blood.

The world was blind and fucking stupid.

They were taking out their fury on the innocent, while the evil monster lurked among them.


	9. Chapter VIII

OMG! It's been almost six months and I'm finally back with Chapter VIII of Innocence Lost. It's crazy to believe that a whole six months have passed. This chapter turned out to be a mammoth 6,500 words long, ripe with detail and description. This was supposed to be broken up into four to five short vignettes as usual, but I decided to just add it all together.

In other news, this a big turning point in this story. Katie is now almost sixteen and stuff has gotten realer and more poignant than before. I've also decided to push some more buttons by adding more intense stuff. Thank you to all the people who have been checking their Fanfiction accounts religiously for an update. Thank you to all the followers, reviewers, and readers who've been there since day one. I will surely not disappoint. Also, I apologize from now if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes. Now on with this long awaited story!

**Summary: Katie Knight had always loved her brother, even if he was the sole cause of her pain and suffering. This is Katie's story unadulterated and uncut as she explains the story of how her innocence was lost. AU**

**Rating: M **

**Pairing: Katie K. and Kendall**

**Warning: Deals with serious subject matter. Incest. Sexual Abuse. Angst. **

**Disclaimer: Big Time Rush and all its characters belong to Nickelodeon. However, this plot and the original characters within it, belong to me.**

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><p>Chapter VIII<p>

"If only. Those must be the saddest words in the world." – Mercedes Lackey

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><p>I woke up with a start at the sound of her shrill screams, throwing the heavy comforter to the floor as I jumped from my bed. I staggered from the darkness of my room and down the stairs as her cries echoed off the walls. He had finally crossed the line. I was sure of it. It was only a matter of time before he would, especially with all the arguing and fighting they were doing for the past two days. I crept quietly to the living room, careful not to make noise. Kendall would not stand for it. I could see him looming over her, fists clenched as she stared up at him with terrified eyes. She was on the floor, her hand clasped on her cheek. She was a bright pink from her uncontrollable crying, her face slicked with her tears of pain.<p>

He spat a curse word at her, hatred and contempt in his voice. She wasn't his mother anymore, the woman that gave birth to him and raised him the best she possibly could. Now, she was nothing more than a meddling bitch. I gasped as he lifted his foot and kicked her in the stomach with all his might. For a second she was breathless, her face contorting as the pain ravaged her body. I became paralyzed, my body numb, as she moaned in agony. Kendall just stood over her watching as her body weakly writhed below him. She was yet another victim of Kendall's endless lies and ruthless rage. Now, I wasn't alone. He had ruined my life and now it was her turn.

I quickly crept away, hiding in the shadows of the kitchen as Kendall stormed out of the living room. He grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger and left, slamming the front door behind him. After a few moments of shock, I rushed to my mother's side. She was lying on her back, her eyes weakly fluttering. I bit my lip, my eyeballs stinging from the tears threatening to freely pour. I forced myself not to cry. I had to be strong for her. After a few minutes, her green eyes slowly took me in as she just noticed my presence. With her hands, she was nursing the spot in her stomach where Kendall kicked her. I tucked the matted strands of her auburn hair behind her ear. My thumbs tenderly caressed her wet cheek. I felt profusely horrible for the thought that plagued my mind at that moment. I remember clearly as it was me thanking God that it wasn't me on the floor with the bruised face.

"Go," she whispered. She licked her lips and let out another moan. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. "I don't want you to see me like this," she added.

Right then and there, I wanted to pour out the truth about the years of abuse. I wanted to tell her that she wasn't alone, that I was Kendall's punching bag and sex slave since I was seven. I wanted to tell her that I resented her for leaving me every night with Kendall as she worked. I wanted to tell her that sooner than later she would be burying me because I couldn't take it anymore. But, I couldn't. No matter how much my heart wanted to pour, I couldn't find the tiniest inkling of courage to. Her heart was already cracking and I didn't want to break it completely. Plus, Kendall was becoming way too unpredictable and I couldn't risk him hurting anyone, especially her.

They had been arguing nonstop for two days straight, neither party willing to back down. She was a concerned and disappointed parent. He was a deeply disturbed young man who didn't give a shit about anyone but himself. It was an inferno waiting to happen, sparked by his greed.

He was stealing money from her and she finally found the strength, after a terrible bout of denial, to confront him about it. I remember her getting her monthly bank statement and panicking about the thought of someone stealing her life's savings. She was already facing economic tension because her hours at the diner were being cut in half. And just like that, without any warning, a decade's worth of hard work and dedication, sweat and sacrifice, vanished right before her eyes.

She couldn't pay the electric bill and for a few days we lived in the dark and the freezing cold.

It was Kendall who had done this to us. He didn't give the tiniest fuck about the consequences. It was all about him and his needs and wants. He emptied out her bank account and maxed out most of her credit cards. The wedding band from her marriage to my dead father was pawned for booze and cigarette money without a second guilty thought.

It was yesterday when the fighting began. I was silently running my fork through my mother's homemade oatmeal and she decided not to go to work that morning. She kept pestering me to eat but I sat there, chin buried in my hands, ignoring her wishes. My mind was in another place. It was in another daydream of the time I wanted to go to most, my early childhood when everything was perfect and innocent and not so fucked up.

_I remember being five years old and racing to the dining table every Saturday morning, clad in my unicorn pajamas. _

"_Mama! Mama!" I would squeal, climbing eagerly onto a chair. I'd pound my fists onto the table to get her attention. "Oaties! Mama! Oaties!" I squealed with a large lopsided and toothless grin. _

_Mom would laugh her chipper laugh and place a hot bowl of porridge in front of me. "Here Katie pie," she'd say, giving me a tender kiss on my cheek. _

Mom only pestered me to eat because she was terribly nervous. Her eyes were bloodshot from her crying and her face was devoid of its usual cheery demeanor. Her checkbook was clutched in her hands as she tapped her foot anxiously. She was waiting for Kendall to come home from yet another late night out. Her hair was unkempt and full of gray strands. She could no longer afford her monthly trips to the hair salon. Mom looked much older than she actually was.

Lately, he was spending every night partying and experimenting with drugs with his new set of friends, which consisted of druggies, lowlifes, and losers. He was barely in contact with his old hockey friends that he spent all of his childhood with. He grew bored of them like a person grows out of a sweater. It was that simple.

Logan Mitchell, the natural born genius and Valedictorian of his class, moved to New Haven to study medicine at the prestigious Yale University. From what I know, he's currently part of the Peace Corps in India.

Carlos Garcia, the offbeat class clown, also moved east to play hockey at Boston University on a full athletic scholarship. Today, he got drafted right out of college to play as a center for the Minnesota Wild, which was Kendall's lifetime dream.

James Diamond was Kendall's only friend that I know nothing about. After a horrible accident that left him unable to pursue hockey, he moved to an undisclosed location out west. He was never heard from again after the accident.

The only thing I knew about James was that he was the star hockey player at Minnesota State. Because of his close proximity, he was also the only friend who kept a regular contact with Kendall. There was also something important about James that I'll touch on at a later time in this story.

But, I digress. There were nights when Kendall would come home and pass out in the driveway because he was so shitfaced. After two semesters, Kendall dropped out of college and just decided to do absolutely nothing with his life. He'd spend the whole day sleeping and the whole night partying. He had no job at all. In his mind, working was beneath him. He just wanted to have his fun.

Not only was Mom worried sick but she was terrified. She couldn't live with the mere thought that her eldest child was behind her economic turmoil and that he'd verbally lash out at her. He'd been doing that lately, putting her down and calling her awful names. She tried her best to ignore it and stay positive but it was tearing her apart at the sight of Kendall deteriorating before her eyes. He wasn't her little boy anymore, with the bright green eyes and charming smile. He was a complete and utter stranger.

My heart stopped when Kendall finally staggered into the house, reeking of booze and cigarettes. He was an ashen gray with dark purple bags sleeping under his eyes. His dark blonde hair was grossly matted to his forehead. His cheeks were hollow and covered with a frenzy of golden stubble. In the most general sense, he looked like shit, a far cry from the clean cut Golden Boy that he was in high school.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Mom sitting there instead of being at work. But he said nothing and gave her his look, daring her to say anything remotely negative to him. The way he would look at someone that he felt challenged or disrespected by was bone chilling. It was as if he was looking right through you and planning your very demise in the most grisly and sadistic way possible. Sometimes, crossing Kendall was like signing your own death certificate.

"Where were you?"

"Why the fuck do you want to know _Jennifer?_"

He had this new thing of calling her by her first name. It completely broke the barrier between mother and son. He knew that it bothered her and he used that weakness any chance he got.

"Kendall watch your mouth in this house," Mom said quietly. She couldn't raise her voice at Kendall.

He leaned closer, his green eyes boring into hers. "Fuck you," he spat, venom dripping in his voice. I watched as Mom silently gasped and gripped her checkbook, slightly crumbling the paper. It wasn't the first time that he cursed at her like that, but every time it happened, it felt like the first.

"I know you cleaned out my bank account," Mom whispered. She averted her eyes, finding it unbearable to look straight into the eyes of a green eyed, cold blooded monster.

Kendall's deathly gaze didn't falter one bit. He was a clever and proficient liar and had a poker face like no other. Instead, he grew angrier as if he was offended by her accusations.

"Don't blame this on me Jennifer. If you weren't such a lazy and stupid twat you'd have your money. Why do you think they cut your fucking hours? You're useless," Kendall barked.

Mom bit her bare, chapped lips, willing herself not to cry. She was speechless and so was I. Yet, somehow, Mom found it in herself to finally stand up to her bullying son. Her mistake was where the fighting began.

Mom walked away from the beating with a badly strained arm, which required her to wear a sling. When I suggested that she go to the emergency room, she refused. She was ashamed that her own son put his hands on her. How could she explain to any outsider who didn't know anything about Kendall's sociopathic nature? They'd assume that she was a bad mother and she couldn't bear that, especially after years of her unequalled dedication to motherhood.

Unwilling to abandon her eldest child, Mom decided not to press charges against Kendall. Instead, she and he agreed that he was not welcome home anymore and would have to live elsewhere. She even helped with buying him a small one-bedroom apartment in a new complex across town. It had cost her a fortune and she had no choice but to take on a second job as a receptionist in order to fund Kendall's moving expenses.

It was nauseating and almost unbearable to watch as Kendall happily picked out a five hundred dollar leather couch at IKEA as Mom and I trailed behind him.

"What do you think _Mom?_"

I watched as Mom stood there, clenching her jaw and biting her lip. The couch was half of her part time job's paycheck. She had no choice but to swallow her cries and eagerly shake her head of approval with a smile. She couldn't risk Kendall throwing a full blown tantrum and belittling her in front of everyone.

"It's perfect sweetie."

Now, she was rarely ever home. Most times, I'd come home to a short note tacked to the refrigerator and a cooked meal in the icebox. _Dinner's in the icebox. Love you darling. _

Kendall not only ruined my life but my mother's too. She was never the same after the incident. It traumatized her to a level that no one, except me, can ever truly understand. I being the only exception was because Kendall betrayed me too, in the worst possible manner.

I guess I was different because Kendall betrayed me too in the worst possible way. He practically owned me. I was his, forever and always. She was no longer her chipper and motherly self. She'd come home with purple bags under her eyes, tripping over her feet like a drunk to bed. She only had four hours to sleep, if she was lucky. Then, she'd be back on her feet and the vicious cycle would start all over again. She was always pale like a ghost, her skin ashen as if she were covered in dust. Mom was now as skinny as I was. We were two peas in a pod because she rarely ever ate anymore, not because she wouldn't but because she couldn't. Her life was so hectic and chaotic that work took priority over other things.

Her food even lost its luster because it was missing the very most important ingredient, her motherly love. Kendall had killed her kindred spirit, her drive, her hope, her passion, and her self-worth as a mother. And because of that, I was deprived of a loving mother too.

There was only one inkling of hope to the madness conjured up by my brother. In Kendall's absence, home had become sort of a sanctuary. He wasn't allowed home without my mother's presence and consent, which was far from few. He'd be arrested for trespassing if he was caught stepping foot onto the property. That being said, I could finally let my guard down and breathe. I wasn't readily available to him anymore. I could finally fall asleep without the fear of waking up to Kendall on top of me, trying undress my sleeping body. I could finally eat whatever I pleased without being forced to stick a finger down my throat just so he could get his kicks. In fact, I gained nearly ten pounds the month after his departure.

It'd be hard and superficial of me to say that I was truly happy because, in reality, I was far from it. My happiness was due to the peace of mind that I finally got at home. The legion of wounds and scars that I suffered can possibly never be repaired.

With Kendall gone, I decided that it would be in my best interest to reinvent myself to the person that I truly wanted to be. It was no surprise, that at sixteen years old, I wanted to be a teenager and not the little girl child that I was forced to see myself as. I desperately wanted to shed the unsettling limbo of being seven. So, that's when I became the New Katie, as I now like to call it.

With absolute pleasure, I threw out my outdated and childish wardrobe in exchange for clothes that made me look like a mature young adult. Because of Mom's guilt of never being at home, she supplied me with the money to fund my transformation. It took weeks of begging for new clothes but Mom finally gave in, despite the need for money. There was always a pang of guilt of taking her money, especially because we were living paycheck to paycheck.

One morning, there were two neatly folded one hundred dollar bills sitting atop the kitchen counter. I happily grabbed them and stuffed it into the pocket of my fraying cardigan. That afternoon, I took the bus to the neighborhood mall, an ironically giddy, childlike glow emanating from my being. I wandered into the unfamiliar Forever 21, naïve and awestruck from the racks of colorful clothes that lay before me.

Undoubtedly, I felt out of place in a store full of girls clad in womanly clothing. You'd feel that same feeling if you were forced to wear terribly faded jeans that reached your ankles, a tight pink t-shirt that you wore and re-wore since the age of ten, and an oversized cardigan that you stole from your mother's closet.

Like a small child in a candy store, I spent hours trying on clothes with the verdicts of two dressing room clerks. I bought myself a few pairs of hip hugging jeans, tight tank tops, brightly colored dresses, patent leather high heels, and my first black lacy bra. I nearly cried at the sight of myself wearing low rise jeans and a black spaghetti strap tank top. It's a joyous, unfathomable, almost liberating feeling that, to this day, I feel from within. As cliché as it may sound, that was probably the best day of my inherently short life.

That night, alone in the idyllic emptiness of home, I hauled Mom's abandoned makeup caboodle, traces of dust already forming on the metal handle, from behind her closet. I was mesmerized by the array of powders and lipsticks, ranging from demure to bold. Mom had always looked so beautiful with her makeup on and I thought that I could too. With the freedom of my imagination, I slathered makeup onto my blank canvas of a face, rimming my eyes with charcoal eyeliner, embellishing my cheeks with pink blush, and painting my lips a deep crimson red. I fell asleep that night clothes picked out, dreams in my head, smiles on my face, and ready to take on a new unfamiliar world.

Mom came home the next evening, juggling her purse in one hand and a large bag of groceries in the other. I was at the dining table reading through a textbook for my psychology class. In a ratty notebook, I was taking notes on sociopathy both for homework and personal use. I was wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans, a midriff top, and a cardigan. My hair was in a high ponytail and I had yet to wash my makeup off my face, mostly because I wanted Mom to see what I looked like. I hadn't seen her in days.

"Hi sweetie," Mom whispered with a slur, too busy unloading groceries to look at me. Starving for her attention, I closed my textbook and got up to help her. She was wobbling, her knees ready to give out from extreme exhaustion. She was cracking right before my eyes. Kendall's hold on her was tightening.

As she was arranging the fruit in the fruit bowl on the table, she finally stole a small glance at me, but continued with what she was doing. She seemed unfazed by my transformation and that caused me to gnaw on my glossed lips nervously. Suddenly my small shred of confidence was replaced with self-consciousness.

"You got new clothes," she finally said unenthusiastically. She was standing so close that I could smell the bitter stench of alcohol on her breath.

With a small smile, I said, "Yeah Mom."

Mom finished putting the meats in the freezer, grabbed her purse, and limped right past me. "You look nice," was her lame answer. She was too tired to care.

The only person who didn't see my new look was Kendall. I hadn't seen him since Mom handed him the keys to his new place. Weeks had passed since we were in bed together, naked and sweaty. I didn't know what he was doing with his time, but it was nothing good, no doubt. I would be stupid to believe that Kendall would take my new look well, not after all that's happened. At that time, however, there was a sense that Kendall wasn't in my life anymore. It was what one may call wishful thinking. Stupid you may say, and you'd be right. Kendall's absence was anything but permanent, even though I liked to think it was so. After a month and a half of our separation, he could no longer squelch his illicit desire. He needed to see me.

I was having a meal with Mom at her diner during her dinner break, when she broke the near devastating news.

She looked at me with her now stoic face, taking a small sip of her half finished glass of Merlot wine. She was nearing her third glass. I was absentmindedly running my fork through my watery mashed potatoes as she stared down at her plate. She was too ashamed to look me in the eye. "He wants to see you," she quietly announced, breaking a long uncomfortable silence. After her total dismissal of my new look, we barely talked. I was angry at her. She didn't love me anymore. The old Mom would've thrown a party at the sight of me blossoming into a young woman. The only reason I decided to have dinner with her because there wasn't a home cooked meal at home.

My body froze at these simple words and I could feel the instantaneous tsunami of hot prickling tears stinging the backs of my eyes. Kendall wanted, no demanded, to see me. Was my metamorphosis from a dull, pathetically plain girl child to a typical American teenager, necessary?

I looked into my mother in the eyes. I saw the sadness, the anguish, the uncertainty in her jade colored eyes. She, herself, didn't want this to happen, but she had no choice.

I dropped my fork and pushed my food away. I crossed my hands over my chest and bored my eyes into hers.

"No," I snapped.

Mom put down her empty wine glass. "Katherine don't do this." Mom only called me by my full name when she was serious.

Unfazed, I said, "I'm not going. Not after all that's happened."

"I know you're angry but I want you two to get along…"

Mom was rambling her pitiful pleas of obedience, when my ears perked up to the sound of childhood laughter. We all have a trigger, that one bizarre spark that could prompt an internal inferno. A child's laughter conjures up this sense of melancholy that most people can never relate to. I couldn't help but crane my neck, looking for the source of that paralyzing laughter.

Two tables over, there sat a seemingly young mother with two small children, a boy and a girl. The girl, clad in jeans and a unicorn sweater, had large blue eyes and two long creek brown pigtails. Her lips and chin were stained in strawberry syrup and her warm, child smile could warm the coldest of hearts.

She was obviously adorable, especially with that almost toothless grin of hers. Yet, you would definitely question my morality with what I am about to say next. I found her absolutely repulsive and my flaring nostrils were evidence to that sudden surge of hatred. She reminded me of myself or what that quality of innocence that I lost at her age.

Her brother, who, in my opinion, sat dangerously (but innocently) close to the girl, was laughing along with her. He was visibly older with a tall, lanky stature, a mop of deep blonde hair, and a pair of icy blue hues. Like me and Kendall, if you only glanced at these children, you wouldn't find one trace of alikeness. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders as she buried her strawberry face into his shoulder, but he didn't seem to care.

I couldn't stop staring at them. I was crippled with fear. My early life was unfolding right before my eyes. Those two kids were Kendall and I. It was uncanny and maddening. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? I asked myself.

There I was sitting two booths away, strawberry syrup on my face, brown hair in pigtails, and those bright eyes. I was laughing that infuriating, crippling laugh.

I tried to focus my attention on my mother's cracked lips forming unfamiliar, silent words. She was talking of Kendall, but that laugh was still ringing in my ears and flooding my senses.

She wouldn't stop laughing.

That bitch wouldn't stop with her incessant laughing!

I was bubbling with anger, fury, and lunacy. My hands were balled into instinctive fists, my knuckles a sallow white. I buried the palms of my hands onto my ears, trying to stop from hearing that laugh. But, it was too strong and too loud in my head. I was shaking with horror. The laughing wouldn't stop, no matter how much I tried to ignore her laugh, it wouldn't stop.

Mom stopped her rambling, her now bushy eyebrows furrowing with confusion at my irrational behavior. She followed my gaze to the booth with the children, but couldn't understand what was causing me such anguish. In her eyes, there sat two perfectly angelic children, untainted and innocent.

I couldn't take it anymore! And with a loud, crass, and crazy tone, I turned to the girl and shouted, malice in my voice, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The girl finally stopped her laughing and looked at me with her big, questioning eyes. The diner slowed into a hush as all eyes were cast upon the insane girl, who was sitting with her mother, suddenly looking like a soiled tramp with tight clothes and caked makeup.

Unable to deal with the sudden attention, I burst into tears and threw my napkin onto the table. "Fine I'll see him," I babbled with resignation. I slid out of the booth and ran to the nearest exit, where I met the cold Minnesota wind. This was my fate. It would always be the same.

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><p>The next afternoon, I took the bus across town to Eastwood, the new midsized complex where Kendall called home. The minute I stepped off the bus and onto the parking lot of Eastwood, there was this surreal feeling as if it were all some dream. It was almost two months since I saw Kendall last and, honestly, I didn't know what to expect.<p>

Was he better than before?

Was he worse?

I made my way up the rickety, frozen steps to the second floor and to the red door of 2J. With a heavy sigh, I knocked onto the door and awaited my persecution.

"It's open!" Kendall yelled from inside. I apprehensively pushed the door open. I was greeted by the strong stench of cigarette smoke and cheap vodka. The place was littered with empty Marlboro packets and crushed cans of beer. Kendall, clad in tattered jeans and a plain black t-shirt, was sitting on the very couch he picked out from IKEA, a cigarette on his lips. He was watching a hockey game on a dusty TV. His now neck long hair was unkempt and dirty. He was growing patches of golden stubble on his chin and upper lip. He looked so lost as he stared blankly at the blaring TV.

The minute he heard my steps, he muted the TV and his green eyes lazily made their way to me, his eyes immediately squinting in confusion. He sat up and he flicked the cigarette butt into a full ashtray.

He ordered that I take off my heavy jacket and I hesitantly obeyed, dropping it to the ground. I was wearing a tight black t-shirt that revealed slithers of my stomach, black jeans, and boldly dark makeup. I huddled my arms closer as I suddenly felt stark naked from Kendall's intense stare. He was taking me in, every little detail. His stare was so fixed as if he was looking right through me. It would've given anyone chills.

He slowly got up from the couch and inched his way closer to me. With every step forward he took, I took a terrified step back until I was pinned against the cold metal door. He took one last step forth, a shaking hand raised in a clenched fist. Yet, as he looked down at me, he let out a small sigh as his fingers loosened into a curl. For once, he couldn't find it in himself to strike me in the face. He was too busy staring at me, his mouth agape and an eyebrow raised.

He wordlessly reached for my wrist with a sense of hesitation, unbeknownst to me, and even himself. He looked at me with both disbelief and wonder. He took in the way my small, pale pink, and partly parted lips formed a demure, naively innocent pout. His eyes bored into the blank ebony eyes that looked back at him, uncertainty evident within them. It was as if I were an idyllic nightmare, dazed yet vividly surreal. He gripped my wrist, making sure that it was I and not a mirage that stood before him.

His only consolation was that my familiarly sordid, immaturely shaped body still remained. My legs were still awkward and twiggy and I had shriveled raisins for breasts. Through the makeup and perfume, I was still the girl child he knew, the object of his pedophiliac desires and sadistic fantasies.

Kendall slowly dragged me into his dimly lit bedroom and pushed me onto the bed. He kicked off his sneakers and took his place on top of me, careful not to crush me under his enormous weight. In a slow, drooping fashion, he leaned closer and roughly brushed his dry, chapped lips against mine. I grimaced at the acrid taste of cheap beer that lingered on his hot, steamy breath.

His fingers, long and stalk like, tiptoed to the hem of my tank top in careful strides. He ran a lone finger on the ridged scar that sat on the outskirts of my pelvis. That finger spelled out a sloppy, crooked K. It was the scar he gave me oh so long ago and his only way of making sure it was truly me.

He was ready to have sex.

How could I tell?

It was obvious by a hard bulge pulsating against my thigh.

I challenged him with a soft, whispered "no." I slightly arched my back below him. Yet, he gripped harder, clawing his nails into my flesh, and snarled a "shut up" at me. Despite his hardened façade, he looked like a scared little lamb, not knowing what to do or where to start.

But, there was still that animalistic fire within him, the primal instinct of predator stalking prey. He swallowed hard and with dilating eyes, yanked my top to my shoulders. Without warning, he let out a terrified gasp at the sight of my black, lacy bra. It was the first time I had ever worn one in his presence. I was less naked than he was accustomed to. The bra was sort of a realization that the once girl child he knew and created was cracking before his very eyes.

He quickly undressed me and, before we continued, he took a piece of his blanket and smeared the makeup off of my face. After everything happened, he wordlessly grabbed a nearby towel and wobbled into the bathroom. He didn't even look at me. He was repulsed by me or who I now was, but that didn't stop him from coming back for more.

Almost every day after school, against my will, I'd make my way to his apartment instead of going straight home like I used to. Most times, he'd feed me beer to relax me or force me to take a few puffs of grass to wipe away any inhibition. He liked it when I didn't complain or care what was happening around me. It was more convenient.

There was one time, where probably for the hundredth time over the span of eight years, I was laying in bed with my brother. Before anything began, he told me to undress and surprised me with an old pink nightgown that I once wore as a young girl. With a snap of his fingers, I slipped into the dress, smoothed out the creases and fashioned my hair into two long pigtails. He thoroughly inspected my legs, making sure that there wasn't any hair marring the smoothness of them.

Once I was up to par, he eagerly dropped his jeans and ravaged me as usual, a delight in his eyes. May I spare you, Sir, of any more gory details that you must hear and move on.

After, my head was resting on his bare, sweaty chest as he lazily smoked a cigarette. We were both covered in a flimsy gray blanket, reeking of sex. I laid there stoic, broken, left without a voice. I was tuning out his rambling, desperate for a hot shower, when he started, for the first time, what I know call, the F-word conversation.

He took a long, thoughtful drag of his cig, spewing the toxic smoke from his nose onto the top of my head.

"I love you Kat," Kendall announced gruffly. He patted my head like a dog. There was a smug smirk on his face as I squeaked my expected rebuttal. He ran a hand down the curve of my back, pulling me closer to him.

"I started looking at rings. Would you believe it? I started looking. Long and hard," he mused in a dreamlike fashion. I shuddered as he placed a kiss on my matted forehead.

I knew where this totally random train of thought was going. And, Sir, this was where this already unbelieveable story started it fatal, downward spiral.

I licked my salty lips and slowly stammered, "For what?"

There was a small silence, he shifted uncomfortably once more, and said, "I want to marry you. It's fucking weird. But, I want to Kat."

I wanted to throw up at this admittance, like any right minded person would. I couldn't believe what garbage was coming out of his mouth. "It's illegal," I blurted.

"Who gives a shit?" he scoffed. He pursed his lips and continued with his rant. "We could have some kids…y'know. Take 'em out to ball games or ballet. We could be a real **family**."

There he went again, ignoring the boundaries of society. In Kendall's mind, marrying the one he loved, no obsessed over, was perfectly normal. He wanted to marry me, Sir, his own fucking sister! How sick is that?

There was another uncomfortable silence as we both thought of the current situation. Kendall broke the paralyzing silence by getting up and grabbing his clothes. He threw back the curtain, revealing the blinding sunlight that now spilled onto the dirty gray carpet. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. He yanked on his shirt and flimsy sweater, and grabbed his keys.

"I need cigarettes. I'll be right back Kat," he said. He nonchalantly strolled out of the bedroom, through the living room, and out of the apartment.

Finally, even if it was for only ten minutes, I was alone. I reached for the night stand where my now warm beer was sitting. I took three large gulps, try to drown out the pain in my legs from rough, kinky sex. Without warning, there was a loud knock at the door, cutting the pin drop quietness of the apartment with a knife.

At first, I thought it was Kendall, who probably locked himself out and needed to get in. The loud knocking continued, I yelled a futile "coming!", and grabbed for my jeans and shirt. I loosened my hair from the constricting pigtails and wiped traces of mascara from my cheek.

I skipped to the door and swung it open. I was greeted by a familiar, dashingly handsome figure. It was Kendall's only lifelong friend, James Diamond. He looked better than ever, with perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair, silver eyes, and a peanut butter tan even though it was the middle of winter.

From what I knew, James Diamond was a player. He had many girlfriends throughout high school and only really went for the pretty and blonde types. Diamond was known to drop girls like old hockey pucks and find someone prettier, slimmer, and sometimes dumber.

Was he a chauvinistic pig?

Probably so.

Taken aback by my presence, his mouth stood agape as if he were staring at some new and beautiful conquest. I couldn't see how this could be; my jeans were riding down my nonexistent hips, I wasn't wearing a bra, and my hair was messy. There was nothing attractive in that.

He hadn't seen me in almost a year and that was when I still dressed like a seven year old. If that were still the case, he'd ignore me as if I were some speck of dust. In all honesty, Sir, I once found him very attractive.

He flashed his trademark GQ pearl white smile, but, unimpressed, I placed a hand on my hip.

"Wow. Katie…" his voice trailed off like an idiot.

Rolling my eyes, I said, rather matter-of-factly, "Kendall isn't here."

There was a hint of disappointment in his silver eyes. "Okay. Well tell him I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by," he explained, with a wink.

I shrugged my shoulders and slammed the door in his face. It was rude, but I was done with boys.

But, little did I know, this little meaningless interaction was where the ticking time bomb began.


	10. Chapter IX

Hey readers! I'm back with another chapter to this story. This took a lot of energy to write. It was emotionally draining and at times I wanted to discontinue to the story as a whole. Yet, I didn't want to disappoint you guys, so I continued. I would like ask for your forgiveness now because the subject matter does get extreme. I want you guys to understand that Kendall is a sociopath and you can find the definition on Google if you'd like. I promise that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The ending is already planned out and there is about four chapters left, give or take. So, let me present to you Chapter IX of Innocence Lost. As always, reviews, favorites, and follows are welcomed and appreciated.

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><p>Chapter IX<p>

"You save yourself or you remain unsaved."― Alice Sebold

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><p><em>"This can't possibly be true Ms. Knight," the detective said with an incredulous frown.<em>

_"My brother is a sociopath," was my simple answer. I looked at him and asked with impatience, "Can I just finish?"_

_With his hands, he motioned for me to continue with my story._

* * *

><p>Kendall found a new love and that was cocaine. The first time I found out was when I made my daily trip to have yet another incestuous rendezvous with my own blood. The door to his apartment was ajar and there was no light coming from inside. I nervously stepped closer and walked into the apartment. The TV wasn't blaring like it usually did. I called his name and got no answer. I flicked on the light and froze with complete shock at the sight before me. There was blood everywhere. It stained the cushions of his suede coach, the carpet under the coffee table, and the walls that led to his room. There was trail of crimson blood coming from his room. It was scene straight from a gory horror movie. I dropped my bag and dashed towards his room. As weird as it sounds, although the I despised his very presence, I never even thought of him dying. There was tears forming in my eyes at the thought of losing my brother. One may call this Stockholm Syndrome and that may be true. I wasn't ready for him to die.<p>

Kendall was lying face first on the floor with a bloody knife clasped in his limp hand. He was clad in nothing but his underwear and there was white residue caked on his nose. I backed against the wall with terror at the sight of a decapitated cat strewn on his bed. It's brown mane was soaked in its own blood and its piercing green eyes were frozen with the look of shock. It was the stray cat that lived in the bushes surrounding the complex.

"Kendall!" I cried. My head was spinning and the sight of blood was nauseating. My stomach lurched and I felt the intense need to vomit. Yet, I suppressed the feeling by swallowing hard.

He immediately and erratically jerked and raised his head as if he had gotten water poured onto him. He was panting heavily and stared at me with large, dilated eyes. His hair was disheveled and his jaw was peppered with golden stubble. He was gaunt and his skin was an ashen gray. He took in his surroundings as if he didn't know where he was.

"It tried to fucking kill me!" he yelled like a maniac. He was waving the knife and I winced, praying that he wouldn't throw it. It was apparent that he was on drugs. The cat's death was most likely from a drug fueled rampage.

"What are you on?" I asked.

He didn't answer and just stared at me with widened eyes. I apprehensively bent down so that our eyes met and reached for the knife. To my amazement, he handed it over without a fight.

"What are you on?" I repeated firmly. I slapped his cheeks gently and his head swayed from side to side. I wiped the residue from his nose and felt the crystal like texture in my fingers. He was on cocaine.

"I swear it tried to kill me," he wailed, shaking his head fervently. I had never seen him so vulnerable. It was quite scary due to its unfamiliarity. I felt a pang of sympathy towards him. He was lost and was now jumping head first into harder drugs. He reeked of booze and smelt as if he didn't shower for days. He needed a shower.

I helped him to his feet and we slowly teetered towards the bathroom. I turned the handle of the shower two turns to the left as he dropped his boxers. He stumbled into the shower and stiffened as the water ran down his body. He was shivering and his teeth chattered.

"Sit," I instructed. He wordlessly did what he was told and sat cross legged. I shampooed his hair and scrubbed everything from his waist up. He kept staring at me with sad eyes and a frown.

"I'm broke," he moaned. He dropped his head into his hands. "I want more." He pounded his fists to the shower base.

I didn't know what to say. He was drowning and I didn't know whether or not I wanted to save him. After all, he had done me so much harm. He stood up and washed the soap from his body. I threw him a towel and walked out of the room so that he could dress.

"Bury the cat," I whispered. He lazily put on his clothes and, with a large spoon, scraped the cat's remains into an old shoebox. He went downstairs and I could hear him tossing the box into the dumpster. It was sad way for any being to die.

We sat on the couch in silence. We were both staring at the blank television with sad expressions on our faces. This wasn't the way our lives were supposed to turn out. Kendall wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to play hockey in college and one day go on to play for the Minnesota Wild. It was his boyhood dream and, at one point, it was all he talked about. I was supposed to be his sassy, smart alec baby sister, who played childish pranks on him. We were supposed to be the perfect set of children, living happy ever after lives.

Yet, we turned out to be psychotic and unhappy.

He lit a cigarette and took a long, nervous drag. He offered me a puff and I gladly accepted. I was starting to have a liking towards cigarettes. As cliche as it sounded, it made me feel better about life. I even stole a few when Kendall wasn't paying attention or was too drunk to care.

"I need money," he said, breaking the long silence.

Kendall had had an unsuccessful tryst as drug dealer. He would buy pot from another dealer and try to sell it for double, sometimes triple, the amount. Yet, the marijuana that he sold was of cheap quality. It didn't pack the same punch as the stuff other people sold. No one bought it from him unless they really needed a quick high, which was rarely. He ended up with less money than before.

"Why can't you get a job?" I blurted.

He glared at me with a sneer. "I'm too fucking good for a job," was his apathetic answer.

He looked at me with a pondering expression on his face. He stared at me as if he had never seen me before. After what seemed like forever, this small, devious smirk enveloped his lips.

"Go home," he ordered. "Come back tomorrow right after school. Wear something nice."

I gave him a puzzled look and hesitantly got up. I knew where this was going on. We were going to have sex again since we didn't today. I grabbed my bag and looked over my shoulder once more. He was daydreaming with that same smirk on his face.

* * *

><p><em>"Why not go to the police?" the detective said with a questioning look. He put down his pen and rubbed his temples with an exasperated sigh.<em>

_"You don't understand," I snapped. I placed my hands on my lap and discreetly ran a thumb over my stomach._

_He gave me an eye roll. He had probably heard that before. "Continue," he said grudgingly, picking up his pen._

* * *

><p>As per Kendall's wishes, I arrived at his apartment after school. I was dressed in black, leather pants and a white tank top. To my dismay, Kendall had finally settled for an older me. There were no more nicks from razors when he shaved me from head to toe. And there were no more pigtails and frilly white nightgowns.<p>

The door was open and I was greeted the sight of Kendall and an unfamiliar boy sitting on the couch. The boy was tall with black hair and movie star good looks.

Why he had Kendall as a friend?

I don't know.

Kendall was sipping a beer and the boy was smoking a cigarette. There was a nervous, giddy expression etched on the boy's perfectly tanned face.

When the door clicked behind me, they both looked up and Kendall catapulted from his seat, spilling some of his beer on his jeans.

"There she is!" he cried with a grin. He looked intently at the boy as the boy stared intently at me. He examined me from head to toe, his dark, mysterious eyes taking in every inch of my body. I felt self conscious and cast my eyes to ground. The boy motioned for me to turn around and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"Turn around," Kendall demanded hurriedly. The fury that had always been in his eyes was back. I slowly and nervously spun around.

"Take your jacket off."

I obediently slipped my arms through the sleeves and carelessly threw it to the floor. I was freezing. Kendall hadn't had heat because he couldn't afford it.

The boy looked back at Kendall, wiggling his eyebrows. "a hundred."

Kendall scoffed and rolled his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair. "C'mon she's practically a virgin!"

The boy glanced at me once more, pursed his lips, and nodded his head. "Two hundred."

My brother shook his hand, with this large, goofy grin. "That's more like it!"

"What's going on?" I asked in a panicked tone. I searched their faces for an answer but found none.

"She doesn't know?" the boy asked. He looked at Kendall questioningly and Kendall threw a glare my way.

Kendall motioned for me to follow him into the room. I walked past the boy, who was still staring intently at me with a mysterious smirk on his face.

The room was dark and Kendall backed me against the wall. "Your gonna suck his dick for money," he announced.

My jaw dropped at his announcement. I was speechless. He wanted to pimp me out for drug money. There was nauseating feeling churning in my stomach. I felt dirty and disgusting, like every time me and Kendall had sex. He wanted me to be a prostitute. My brother wanted me to fuck guys for his own personal gain.

How fucking sick is that?

"I don't want..."

He interrupted me by grabbing my arm and twisting it. My arm made a displeasing cracking sound and I began to yelp in pain, but he only gripped harder. His nails were digging into my skin and I tried to break free.

"You're gonna fucking do it," he barked. He let go and my arm was pink and pulsating with pain.

As he sauntered out the room, he gave me an arrogant wink. He had gotten me to do what he wanted and that made him feel good. It was always thrilling for him. He liked inflicting pain and couldn't care less of what the other person was feeling. He liked to get his way and he was deadly when he didn't.

"She's ready!" he called.

A few seconds later, the boy walked in and closed the door behind him. His eyes glimmered and he smirked as he undid his belt. He sat down on the bed and motioned for me to come over. Still clutching my arm, I crept over with my head cast to floor.

I wordlessly knelt down like I had always done with Kendall. The boy ran his fingers through my hair and cupped his hand under my chin. He raised my head so that I was looking at him. He was smiling and winked at me.

"My name's Jett," he said huskily.

He leaned in and planted a sultry kiss on my lips. I didn't kiss back as my lips were closed.

"Katie," I said. I jerked my head sideways to break the kiss.

"Your pretty."

"Thanks. I guess."

Jett dramatically dropped his pants and ran his hand down his private. He watched for an excited expression, but got none. I stared at it and grimaced. It was obnoxiously large and pale pink. The smile on his face was gone. He grabbed the back of my head and I closed my eyes as he pulled me down.

It felt like forever. It lasted a whole five minutes.

When I was done, I wiped his stuff off of my lips with the back of my hand. He buckled his pants and smoothened the creases. He was satisfied with my service and it showed. He was beaming and almost glowing in a way.

He walked out of the room and patted Kendall on the back.

"She's fucking amazing!" he said. He fished his pockets and placed two hundred dollar bills in Kendall's hands. Kendall looked at the money as if it were the holy grail.

"I gotta go."

He grabbed his jacket and exchanged a bro hung with Kendall.

"Tell your friends!" he called as Jett left the apartment.

That night, I cried the whole entire walk home. I had never cried so hard. I had this huge throbbing headache and I felt dizzy. I wanted to pass out and probably never wake up.

Mom wasn't home like usual. She didn't leave any food, which was becoming a common occurrence. Her life revolved around work and she had no time for me anymore. She didn't care that I spent time with the person who viciously attacked her. She was too busy working to care.

I stumbled into the bathroom and threw myself in front of the toilet. My stomach grumbled furiously. I coughed and piles of vomit crashed against the porcelain. I was crying and slammed my hands against the sides of the toilet.

I could still taste him. He was the first boy, besides Kendall, I had ever done that to. It was disgusting and degrading. I had imagined my first time to be romantic, to be everything Kendall couldn't offer.

I searched the cabinet for Advil and found an unfamiliar medicine bottle. I grabbed it and ran a finger over the label.

It was Xanax and it was prescribed to my mother.

I had heard good things from kids at school about it. It was supposed to make all your troubles and stresses about life go away. You would feel like you were flying and invincible. You would feel calm and like you were in someone else's body. I needed that. I needed to get away. I wanted to be a bird and fly.

Without a second thought, I popped two pills and swallowed. This wave of calmness overtook my body. I was in nirvana and the euphoric feeling ravaged me. I sleepily and gracefully walked into my room, undressed, and fell in slow motion onto my bed. I had never slept so beautifully in my life and from then on, I was hooked.

I took a Xanax before school, another one during lunch, and two before going over the Kendall's.

Within a week, the bottle of Xanax was gone. My mom didn't even ask me about the empty bottle. She was probably so tired that she couldn't keep track. She simply ordered a new bottle.

* * *

><p><em>"So you're saying you're a drug addict?" the detective questioned, interrupting me.<em>

_I rolled my eyes. "That's beyond the point!"_

_He gave me an apathetic frown. "Actually. It is..."_

* * *

><p>Jett spread the news about my services to his group of friends. He probably had such a good time because I was now the hottest piece of meat in town. There were two or three guys a day that would knock on Kendall's door dying to take me for a ride.<p>

None of them knew that I was Kendall's sister. Kendall had told his friends that I was just some whore he met at a party.

My brother was making really good money at my expense. He could easily pocket eight hundred dollars a night. The minute he got money, he would spend it on drugs. I never saw a cent.

He was happy that he had finally made a living as a pimp, but soon that happiness dissolved and jealousy took its place. He was jealous because I belonged to him. He would angrily usher a satisfied customer out of the apartment and refuse to let anyone else touch me for the night.

The last straw was when this guy, named Dak, let out a yowl of ecstasy as I performed for him. Kendall, still high from cocaine and full of envy, stormed into the room. He threw me off of Dak and pulled him by the collar. He dragged him, his pants still at his ankles, to the living room and began to pummel him, his fists crashing onto Dak's face. He was kicking him so hard that the poor boy cried in agony.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He pulled out a small knife from his pocket. "Tell anyone and I'll fucking kill you!" Kendall warned. His pocket knife was at Dak's neck, which meant he meant business. Dak swore he would never tell and ran out of the apartment with a black eye and a broken nose.

He had closed the shop for good and his days as a pimp were over. His money lasted only a few days and he was stuck being penniless again.

* * *

><p>"I'm expecting someone," Kendall squeaked. It was a week after he beat up Dak and his cocaine supply was gone. He had these ugly bags under his once gleaming green eyes. He was green from nausea and had dropped a lot of weight since he started cocaine. He was going to take a shower and wanted me to keep an eye out. He was beyond exhausted. He went through cold sweats all night from withdrawal.<p>

As he closed his bedroom door, I grabbed a cigarette from the coffee table and lit it. I took short, careful drags as I stared at the wall. I could hear Kendall vomiting in the bathroom.

My life was a wreck from the beginning. At seven, I had my first sexual experience. By nine, I was a pro at blow jobs. By eleven, I was malnourished. By sixteen, I was abusing pills and had a brief stint as a prostitute. The only thing I had left was school and I was straight A student. I wanted to go to NYU in New York City and get as far away from Minnesota as I could. I was going places or at least I thought I was.

I nearly jumped at the sound of knocking at the door. I snubbed the cigarette in the ashtray and trotted towards the door. I didn't bother looking through the peephole and opened the door. It was James Diamond. He was shivering from the cold and his hands were stuffed in his parka. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of me.

"Katie! I wasn't expecting you!" he greeted with enthusiasm.

"I'm here," I replied in a tired, monotone voice.

He pointed to the door. "Can I come in?"

I stepped out of his way and he shuffled through.

"How's life?" he asked, trying to make conversation. He took off his gloves and shook the snow off his hair. I spotted a sliver of purple on his neck and assumed it was a hickey.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Good. You?"

"Same here. Good." he paused and smiled politely. "Where's Kendall?" he asked.

"In the shower."

I reclaimed my spot on the couch and there was an awkward silence.

"Does your brother have anything to drink?" James asked hurriedly. He was trying his best to keep our conversation going. He just wanted to get into my pants because of the way I now looked. I knew it. I was far from gullible and naive.

"Beer."

He grimaced and shook his head. "Nah."

I grabbed my unfinished cigarette and relit it. I shook Kendall's pack of Marlboro so that it looked attractive. "He has cigarettes."

James widened his eyes with shock. He clamped his jaw and shook his head. "No thanks."

I raised an eyebrow at his answer. He was supposedly Kendall's friend and he didn't want a smoke or a drink. All of my brother's friends were losers, drug addicts, and hard partiers. What made James Diamond the exception?

James opened his mouth to say something, when the bedroom door swung open. Kendall emerged in an old Hollister hoodie and faded jeans. He had his arms huddled to his chest and it looked as if he couldn't hold his head up. He was still pale and green and he squinted his eyes in pain. He perked up at the sight of James.

I watched as James tensed up and looked down nervously. Then, I watched as Kendall's eyebrows knitted together. It was his look of anger. There was something going on and I didn't know what.

"Got my stuff?" Kendall demanded.

James fished his pocket and handed Kendall a paper bag. He examined the contents inside and smirked. It was the smirk of satisfaction. He had just gotten drugs and James gave it to him.

"Get the fuck out," was his next response. "Take her with you."

James and I exchanged uneasy looks. But, ultimately we did as we were told. James ushered me out of the door. We walked down the steps in silence and when we got to the bottom, I started for the bus stop like I had always done. It was freezing and my small frame was shivering. The snow was accumulating and I was only wearing ballet flats and ripped jeans.

"Let me take you home!"

I looked back and saw James standing there. He wiggled his keys and gave me a confident smile. It was weird how his whole persona changed around Kendall in an instant. Standing before me was the James Diamond I knew.

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? It's freezing!" James trotted through the snow to catch up with me.

"I'm taking the bus," I protested. I nodded towards the bus stop. The bench where I usually sat to wait was covered in snow.

"It's not gonna be here for about another hour," he retorted.

I looked at him and then glanced at the bus stop. He was right. I would be waiting in sub-zero weather for a long time.

I let out a sigh and thought it over. I didn't trust him. He had a reputation of being a little too smooth around the ladies.

I shook my head with resignation. I was way too cold to not take the ride.

He grinned and we walked to his car. I gawked at the black Mercedes parked on the curb. James was wealthy, mostly because his mom owned a cosmetics company. She was nicknamed the Estee Lauder of the Midwest. For James's fifthteenth birthday, Mrs. Diamond bought him box seats to a Minnesota Wild game. Kendall, of course, was invited and he had a blast. They even got to meet the team after the game.

His seats were real leather and the inside smelled like expensive cologne. We rode in silence all the way home. I noticed that he kept stealing glances at me. I shifted my body towards the door. When we finally got to my home, he pulled onto the curb.

"What're you doing this Saturday?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Nothing important."

"Come out with me."

My heart stopped at this. He was the first boy to ever ask me out. I was shaking and I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I blushed furiously and cast my eyes to the floor.

"Aren't you too old for me?"

"Who said it was a date?"

I finally looked him in the eyes. His smile could light up a whole city.

Then, I thought of Kendall. He was all I ever knew. I was uneasy about going out with another boy. I couldn't help but think about what he'd do if he found out. Yet, then I thought of how unhappy I was. No guy had ever given me the time of day and here was James wanting to go out with me.

My urge to find happiness overtook my fear, so I said yes.

Maybe James only wanted sex. But, if it was someone other than Kendall, other than those boys I had provided services too, then I didn't care. I needed to find happiness.

I was going out with James Diamond.


	11. Chapter X

Hey everyone! It has been almost five months since the last update. I decided to discontinue the story, but then I realized that this was my first ever story and it be wrong if I abandoned it. Although this doesn't have a huge fan base, I didn't want to disappoint the people who truly loved this story. This is a very different chapter. For the first time, Kendall isn't an active character. It's somewhat light and refreshing. As always, read and review my story. And thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and made my story and myself a favorite. Your faithfulness to this story and encouraging me to continue has helped tremendously. It is also a big motivator. So without further ado, I present to you Chapter XI of Innocence Lost.

* * *

><p>Chapter X<p>

"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and a richness to life that nothing else can bring." – Oscar Wilde

* * *

><p>"<em>He sold you as a prostitute?" <em>

_I shook my head, eyes cast to the dirty floor. I was growing hot with anxiety, tears of bitter nostalgia forming in the crevices of my eyes. He didn't believe me. He thought I was a bold faced liar, but how could I blame him? Sometimes the story of my life seemed a bit outlandish to me as if half the stuff that's happened was all just a big phony lie. _

_The detective quietly placed his pen on the table, looking at me with mocking eyes. The paperwork for my case was already ten pages thick with scribble and the tape for the tape recorder had to be replaced a few times. He licked his thin, slightly chapped lips and said, "This story is completely unbelievable." _

_It was his third time saying that and as I went further into my horrific tale, he seemed a bit more convinced of his own opinion being true. There was a stern frown plastered on his face, blue eyes boring into me as if his stare could break me like a crumbling pastry. _

"_Like I've said before, my brother is a sociopath. I bet you came across people like Kendall a few times in your career or maybe a bit more sadistic and evil. He lacks empathy for anyone. He enjoyed torturing me. Do you now understand?" I quietly retorted._

"_You need to start tell me the truth Miss Knight. Do you understand how much trouble you're in?" _

"_Yes."_

* * *

><p>I was somewhat excited, although my perfected poker face masked my excitement. I was going on my first date and I didn't know what to expect. I had seen the movies and knew how an archetypal teen date went. The boy would pick the girl up at her house. There was the movies and dinner. Then, the boy would drop the girl home and walk her to her door. They would stare at each other, their faces illuminated by the moon. The boy would finally place a sweet, tender kiss on the girl's lips. There would be fireworks and bells and whistles as they kissed and the screen would roll to credits. This was my fantasy in regards to my date with James. He was going to save me, the damsel in distress, from her miserable life and triumphantly slay the dragon.<p>

At first, I wasn't too sure if I wanted to go. There was a gnawing feeling of paranoia, playing deceitful tricks on my mind. I couldn't help but wonder, although I scolded myself for thinking so, if James was going to be another Kendall.

Would he hurt me the way Kendall hurt me?

Did he just want sex?

I shook my fears aside and decided to go ahead. From our brief, yet telling, conversations, James didn't seem duplicitous. Yet, knowing Kendall in his teenaged years and how he tricked the public into believing his exaggerated façade of self, looks can always be deceiving.

I was a nervous mess as I waited for him to pick me up. I lied to Kendall and told him that I was going to study with friends. He surprisingly let me go, although he was too hocked up on coke to care. As usual, my mother was working late at her second job and wouldn't even notice if I was gone. Out of courtesy, I left her a note anyways.

I decided to wear a simple black dress with modest heels. I had found my outfit in my mother's closet and they fit me well. As I stood in the mirror, basking in my hallucinated beauty, I admired the way the dress hugged my curves, or lack thereof. My hair was in loose curls and my makeup was light and demure, a far cry from the vixen illusion that I painted with dark, caked makeup.

After what seemed like forever, the doorbell rang, breaking the silence of the dark and practically empty house. I waited a few minutes before answering because I didn't want to seem too eager or desperate, although I was practically bursting with anticipation. I sauntered to the door and in a cool, calculating manner, slowly opened the door. James was standing there, twirling a single red rose in his long, slender fingers, a large lopsided grin plastered on his flawless face. The color of the rose reminded me of a beautiful, banal, Eden red apple. He was dressed impeccably in a gray, pinstripe suit without a tie. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his eyes twinkled. The yellow light of the front porch created a soft, yellow glow around him, making him more of a divinity than a mere mortal.

He was an effigy of beauty, the symbol of the good in life.

His grin faltered a bit at the sight of me and his eyes widened a tad. He looked like a deer in headlights, frozen and stoic, a bit taken aback and caught off guard. After a brief moment, he regained his poise and licked his lips.

"Hey," he greeted, with a half-smile and a small wave.

"Hey."

He pointed to my outfit, trying to form words to say. "You look beautiful," he finally said.

I blushed furiously with a cracking shy grin. He thought I was beautiful. A boy actually thought that I, Katherine Knight, was beautiful. It rolled off his tongue, so easy and natural. He meant it. I could see it in his face, the way he smiled with a little dimple forming on his left cheek, running his hands through his silky hair with apprehensive fingers, looking at me with expectant eyes, and his cheeks turning a florid red with unmistakable emotion.

"Thanks," I squeaked. I mentally kicked myself for sounding like a rubber ducky getting squeezed to death. I was awkward around boys, a virgin in a metamorphic sense. James Diamond was my first interaction with the opposite sex with the obvious exception of Kendall.

He held out the rose, his offering for the night. I hesitantly took it. I could feel the wet dew on the stem against my fingers. I ran a thumb over a petal, smiling inwardly at its soft buttery feel. It was delicate and fragile as I carefully twirled it in my fingers. It was beautiful and breathtaking, the most beautiful thing that I ever touched. It was alive.

"Shall we go?" James asked. He gave me his dazzling smile and extended his hand, wiggling his fingers. I giggled and took his hand. I could tell already that this was going to be a wonderful night. This was going to be an unforgettable night, I could feel it.

James decided on an upscale French restaurant in Minneapolis, twenty minutes northeast of Shakopee. It was the kind of restaurant that you'd see in a French noir film with the actors smoking Gauloises cigarettes and tittering quietly over crème brulee. It was cozy, dimly lit, and had a nice feel to it with soft piano music coming from the pianist playing inconspicuously in the corner. James mentioned that he fought tooth and nail to get reservations in such a short notice. The restaurant was exclusive and only sat up to twenty people a night. It could take months to be able reserve a seat. If he wasn't rich and the son of the Estee Lauder of the Midwest, he wouldn't even be able to even dream of getting reservations.

As the maître d walked us to our seats, two leather bound menus tucked under his arm, James gently squeezed my hand, looking down at me with a large, tender smile. Even with heels, James towered over me. Our booth was in a secluded corner and the table was ornately done with an ivory linen tablecloth, lit candles, two pairs of shiny silver utensils wrapped beautifully in matching linen cloths, and fine china.

"Have a nice dinner monsieur and mademoiselle," the maître d announced dramatically in a thick, French accent. He placed the menus on top of the plates and strolled away, giving us one last polite smile.

I slid into my seat, nervously picking at my bare fingernails. I tried to emulate a cool, gazelle-like poise seen in the classy, elegant damsels of Hollywood, but failed miserably. I was fidgeting, my leg bouncing up and down in a fast, incessant fashion. I fanned myself, suddenly overcome with heat. I carefully picked up the menu and opened it, studying its contents with nervousness. I couldn't look him in the eye. I was convinced that he would be able to see right through the beautiful, innocent girl that he thought I was. I was convinced that he would be able to tell with just one good, careful look that I was soiled and damaged goods. He was handsome and rich and could have any girl his heart desired. I was plain and obscure.

I stole a quick glance at James, but he caught me. He was smiling from ear-to-ear and had this beautiful twinkle in his eye. His smile seemed to brighten his whole demeanor and could light up a small city. I turned a rosy pink color and refocused my attention on the menu. I hadn't had a clue what I wanted as my eyes scanned the different plates and their prices. I felt uncomfortable. There was no way I could even afford any of this stuff and I felt weird relying on James to have a nice meal. A fleeting thought ran through my mind.

Did he expect something extra with the meal?

I gave myself a quick reality check.

The waiter came and took our orders. I decided on a mussels dish, feeling a bit adventurous as I had never eaten mussels before. James ordered a lamb dish with garlic potatoes. We sat there in silence as we waited for our food. I was so anxious that I began to itch and forced myself not to scratch out of fear of looking unattractive. I was stiff and eerily silent. This wasn't going as I planned. I was becoming very frustrated with myself. I was the one holding myself back from having an awesome night with James. So, I decided, right then and there, that I was going put on a show to prove to myself that I could do it. I was going to show James that I was the girl he thought I was. I was pretty much lying to myself, but I didn't care.

I purposely made eye contact with him. He was still wearing his perfect white smile that made me weak in the knees. I was smiling with my eyes like I had practiced before he picked me up. I gave him a sultry half-grin that made me seem more mysterious and sexy at the same time. I took periodic swigs of my water, but I did it slowly so that I left a bit of suspense. I was actually really good at pretending that I was surprising myself. I was finally enjoying myself thanks to my little game.

He was the one to start the conversation. It started slow with small talk. We talked about our present lives and what we had been up to since James was a regular in my life. I laughed whenever he told something remotely funny. I made sure that my laughs weren't exaggerated or over the top. I didn't want James picking up that I was a phony. I was a bit uncomfortable whenever I talked about my life. I had nothing remotely positive to say about it. I wasn't going to tell him the truth. He'd think I was crazy and would run away and never talk to me again. I thought carefully about everything that I shared. I had to remember these lies and was putting the connections together and filing them in my mental bank. I painted a pretty picture of myself. I was essentially this happy-go-lucky girl with a great future ahead of her. I talked about parties that I had never been invited to. I talked about good friends that didn't exist. The one thing I couldn't lie about was Kendall. There was no way I was going to paint a lovely image of our fucked up relationship. Therefore, I kept him out of my conversations about myself. Plus, James already knew that Kendall was a cokehead. It would raise suspicion if I talked about how great of a person he was.

There was this spark between us that seemed very real and intense. It was unlike anything that I had ever imagined. He was unlike anyone I was accustomed to. He listened while I talked and seemed to take a great interest in me. He smiled and blushed like a little school boy whenever I threw a smile his way. He never broke eye contact. I don't know what true love feels like, but this felt real. This was something that I had always dreamed of and now it seemed to be happening.

The waiter finally came back with our food. I grimaced to myself, silently wishing that I hadn't ordered something that looked so inedible. Our conversation kept going, growing more intense as we went on. We were completely entranced by one another. We hung on each other's every word, refusing to break our eye contact. A part of me wondered whether or not my perception of this particular event was accurate. I ponder upon the memory today and it seemed a bit too outlandish and exaggerated. Yet, in that moment, it felt real and vivid. It was unmistakable.

I was giggling at one of James's corny jokes and that's when I saw it. It the same irregular shaped purple mark on the nape of his neck that I spotted when we met at Kendall's apartment. It was concealed expertly with the collar of his white button down and a few strands of his neck length brown hair. My grin faltered and I bit my lip with nervousness. Another thought popped into my mind and this particular one sent a shiver up my spine. I tried to brush it off, but it wouldn't leave my mind. I tried to recover with another fake smile, but it was as if my lips were paralyzed into a frown. That nagging thought had overtaken my whole psyche and soon James's words became muffled and it was as if he were speaking another language. I just had to know and appease that thought playing tricks in my mind.

"Are you Kendall's drug dealer?" I blurted, my eyes staring down at my barely touched plate of food. I couldn't look him the eye, afraid of what he'd he say. I was afraid that the blown up image of him in my mind would be destroyed by his answer.

James nearly choked on his lamb. He frowned at my question and dropped his fork. He nervously wiped his mouth with his napkin. The color in his face drained and not even his smile could brighten it once more. For the first time that night, we refused to make eye contact. He looked worried and very uncomfortable. My worst fear was coming true. James Diamond, the boy who was supposed to save me, was just too good to be true. He was a phony and a liar. He was nothing more than a deceitful mirage and I cursed myself for not looking through the smokes and mirrors. I remembered distinctly that he handed a bag of cocaine to Kendall.

I was stupid.

Why hadn't I thought of that sooner?!

I would've definitely refused to go out on a date with him, but like stated before, I was blinded by hoping that he'd be different. I was bubbling with anger and I could feel hot, prickling tears stinging the backs of my eyes. There was a long silence that made me angrier and more anxious for every second that passed.

"No I'm not," James finally whispered.

"Then why did you give him a bag of cocaine?" I demanded.

He finally looked at me. His whole demeanor changed. His eyes were darkened and he was shaking with fear. He was fidgeting. It was the same demeanor he had when he handed Kendall the bag. It was the complete antithesis of the confident and suave version of himself that I witnessed up until this point. He moved his jaw as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out. It looked as if he was thinking long and hard about what to say next.

"He threatened to kill me if I didn't buy it for him," James confessed. He reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it down, fully exposing the bruise. It looked fresh.

"He punched me so hard that I thought he could actually kill me. I was scared," he added.

There was a pleading look in his eyes and he evoked such emotion that it seemed genuine. He wasn't lying, I was sure of it. Just thinking about it sent him into a tailspin. He looked as if he wanted to cry and I had never seen a guy get so close to actually crying. I knew he wasn't lying because it sounded like something Kendall would do without a second thought. He was aggressive and was explosive whenever he didn't get his way. He threatened to kill if you disobeyed him. Like stated multiple times throughout this narrative, Kendall was a sociopath and sociopaths were dangerous. He had no empathy towards people. He was sadistic and animalistic in nature.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. I truly was sorry that James, someone so good natured, fell victim to Kendall's evil wrath. I suddenly became very insecure. I couldn't help but wonder if James would want to run away from me because of Kendall. No one in their right mind would want to stay with someone who was associated with someone so evil.

"I'm not into drugs," James replied.

He told me the story of his freshman year at the University of Minnesota. He was a hockey player for the very successful hockey team. He admitted that he was a hard partier, dabbling into drugs and hard liquor. He told me of a good friend who was the captain of his team. There was a blank expression etched on his face as he told the story. The name of this friend was Ryan and Ryan was addicted to heroin. James confessed that he didn't think much of Ryan's addiction because everyone he knew was doing drugs. James himself was a pothead. It wasn't until one night when he went to Ryan's dorm room to pick him up to go to a frat party that his perspective changed. He found his friend dead on his futon with a syringe in his arm. Ryan, only nineteen at the time, died of a drug overdose. James was depressed for months and blamed himself for not intervening when he had the chance. In his friend's honor, he decided to change his ways. He refused to be a party boy anymore and didn't associate himself with people who partied.

We ended up not finishing our meals. James asked for the check and paid. We drove in silence all the way to my house. I was staring at the window, watching as the dark scenery of Shakopee zoomed by us. I was thinking of my life and how crazy it was. I was almost seventeen and I realized that my abuse would be soon be making it tenth anniversary. It's been ten long years since it started. It started on the eve of my seventh birthday and I was so innocent then. I lived in childhood bliss and hoped that I could one day find that same bliss.

James pulled onto the curb in front of my home. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. This was the last time I was ever going to talk to James, I was sure of it. As soon as I closed the door of my home behind me, I knew I was going to cry. Kendall ruined everything in my life and I knew that I'd spend the rest of my life bound to him.

James pulled the keys out of the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let me walk you in," he said.

I froze from shock.

He wanted to walk me inside. The same butterflies that were in the pit of my stomach all night took flight once more. I shook my head and we both got out of the car. The walk to my door was no more than twenty feet, but it felt as if it were the length of the Grand Canyon. James walked beside me, his hands in his pocket. We finally reached my door and we were facing each other. We were staring intently at each other, daring the other to break the intense staring contest.

Without warning, James took a step forth. My heart was tightening with anxiety and it seemed as if I was paralyzed because I couldn't move. He leaned in and cupped my cheek with a large hand. His breath was blowing on my cheeks and I could smell the soda that he drank at the restaurant. He stopped short of kissing me, keeping the suspense alive. Then, he slowly pressed his lips against mine. They were soft and supple, but a bit on the thin side. His kiss was sweet and tender like candy and strawberries. He zealously drank from my lips and we kissed for what seemed like forever. There were fireworks erupting in my head in a mosaic of pinks and yellows.

By no means was this the archetypal teen date, but it felt just right.


End file.
